


Starfall

by Parker_Haven_Wuornos



Category: Haven (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, Inspired by Neil Gaiman, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Multiple, Quests, Rating May Change, Slow Burn, Stardust AU, Stars, Threegulls
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:00:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 40,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23741938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Parker_Haven_Wuornos/pseuds/Parker_Haven_Wuornos
Summary: History is taught wrong. History, typically, is taught by region. It is taught by event, by war, by monarch. It is not, however, taught by night.It is for this reason that children of Haven, hundreds of years from the time in which these events take place, will be very unlikely to realize that the many events which comprise the tale you’re reading began on the same night.On one night, the son of a sheriff proposed to a girl. A sky captain lost his way. A king made a promise. Many men began a quest. A witch and her father made a plan. And of course, a star stumbled.Yes, history students are often shocked to learn of the many course-changing things which might happen on one night, but should they hear that the night happened to be Starfall? Then they are not surprised at all.
Relationships: Duke Crocker/Audrey Parker/Nathan Wuornos
Comments: 50
Kudos: 19





	1. In Which The Story Begins

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for clicking on this and taking a chance on a weird au. I love this movie, I love this show, I promise these concepts fit together better in my mind than one might think right off the bat. I'm very excited about this and I have a decent amount of it already written, but I would love love love feedback because I know it's a bit different for this fandom. Enjoy!

_A philosopher once asked, "Are we human because we gaze at the stars, or do we gaze at them because we are human?" Pointless, really._

_"Do the stars gaze back?" Now, that's a question._

\--Neil Gaiman

It has oft been remarked that history is taught wrong. History, typically, is taught by region. It is taught by event, by war, by monarch. It is not, however, taught by night.

It is for this reason that children of Haven, hundreds of years from the time in which these events take place, will be very unlikely to realize that the many events which comprise the tale you’re reading began on the same night.

On one night, the son of a sheriff proposed to a girl. A sky captain lost his way. A king made a promise. Many men began a quest. A witch and her father made a plan. And of course, a star stumbled.

Yes, history students are often shocked to learn of the many course-changing things which might happen on one night, but should they hear that the night happened to be Starfall? Then they are not surprised at all.

* * *

The Son of the Sheriff

Nathan was rarely called by his name in Haven-Over-Wall. It was small enough town that names hardly seemed necessary, but more so for Nathan. He was the son of Garland, the sheriff, and that was all anyone cared to know about him, except for a few exceptions. The exceptions liked to watch him walk down the street, muttering behind fans while they compared vegetable prices.

A changeling, they said, a child from over the wall. _Cursed_ , They whispered in their low, accusing voices. _He can’t feel._

_What kind of devil can’t feel pain? Can’t feel touch?_

Nathan kicked the dirt at his feet. _I’ll show them. I’ll become something better than the freak son of the sheriff._

This was, in fact, part of why he was walking down the street, long after sunset, seeking the home of one Jordan McKee. It was, in Nathan’s opinion, far better to be the husband of Jordan McKee than the son of the sheriff, and so he was endeavoring to secure this title for himself.

If he married Jordan, everyone would forget the odd occurrences in his childhood, the fact that he sporadically lost the ability to feel anything, the fact that a year ago it had become permanent.

Nathan had to shake those thoughts away. The more he thought about it the worse it was, and anyway, he had to focus on the plan.

His plan to propose was bold, something not many people in town would accuse Nathan of being, though if anyone had taken the time to get to know him well, they would have realized that his plans, when he made them at all, were not laid cautiously. But Jordan wasn’t the type of girl to like caution, and so he had to prove that he wasn’t what everyone said he was.

He wasn’t the changeling, rejected by whatever lived beyond the wall that defined their existence, he wasn’t just the sheriff’s son. He was Nathan, his own person, worth as much as anyone else in this godforsaken village that someone had long ago decided to pick into the inhospitable forested cliffs on the edge of the sea.

He reached Jordan’s home and smiled. The faint light of a candle was still burning in her window; he wouldn’t have to wake her up to speak with her. Aiming carefully, he tossed a pebble at the glass.

She emerged a moment later, her face hopeful for a breath, and then disappointed. “Nathan.”

“Jordan!” He found himself smiling despite her reaction. It was hard not to smile when he looked at her. “Come down, I have something I want to show you.”

Jordan gawked at him for a moment. “Are you mad? Nathan, it’s Starfall, you can’t be outside.”

He laughed. “You act like the star will come down on our heads. It’s a meteor, Jordan, just space rock falling over the wall. I hear they’re beautiful though. Come watch with me.”

“I…” Jordan hesitated, chewing her lip. Nathan had to look away; it wasn’t right to think too hard abut her lips. “Fine, but you can’t tell anyone; they’ll think I’m cursed if they knew I went out on Starfall.”

It hadn’t really occurred to Nathan to think what people would say. Supposedly it was bad luck to actually see Starfall, but people had been calling Nathan cursed since he was a child, so thoughts of further ill-luck rarely registered with him.

“We’ll be careful,” He said, perhaps a bit too eagerly. There was no risk of it anyway; everyone was so afraid of being cursed by seeing Starfall that they stayed away from windows. It was a perfect display of Jordan’s bravery that she had opened hers, even knowing what night it was.

It was probably too much to expect that Jordan might take his hand—or even his arm—while they walked to the little spot out on the bluffs that Nathan had arranged his surprise for her. She was one of Haven-Over-Wall’s most prominent citizens, after all, and he was the changeling son of the sheriff, a man who had some power but little in the way of wealth.

When they arrived, he watched her dark eyes closely, and was not disappointed when they brightened with pleasure at the small trove of nice things he’d gathered for their picnic.

“Is that champagne?” She smiled and Nathan was sure he must have been blushing as he poured them both glasses. “Isn’t that supposed to be for holidays?”

“It’s Starfall isn’t it?” Nathan said. “That’s like a holiday.” 

Jordan’s smile flickered and went out. “It’s not a holiday, Nathan. People get cursed! My mother told me that her sister went out during the last Starfall and that’s why her husband started being unfaithful.”

Perhaps it was because he’d heard that he was cursed so often, despite—for the most part—being completely ordinary, but Nathan had never put much stock in superstition. That Jordan’s uncle had been unfaithful seemed less the star’s fault and more the uncle’s problem, but Nathan wouldn’t dream of correcting Jordan.

“That doesn’t worry you?” He asked.

She smiled. “No one would dare be unfaithful to me, cursed or not.”

“Of course.” He couldn’t imagine there being any power that would compel him to do something like that to her.

“When will it happen?” She asked, eyes searching the sky.

“Any minute now,” He replied. “My dad has been through two Starfalls and he says they happen at eleven o’clock.”

He glanced at the watch his father had given him and saw that they were only moments away from seeing the star, and he was only moments away from taking the first step towards the only thing he’d ever really wanted.

He held his breath and watched.

“Look!” Jordan jumped up stepping hard on Nathan’s hand. She glanced down. “Oh, um, sorry, I—”

“It’s fine,” He said, trying to find the smile he hadn’t needed to work for only seconds ago. “Didn’t feel it.” She might as well have stepped on a ghost for all he felt.

“Right.” Her smile brightened and she moved further from the trees to get a better look at the star.

Nathan followed her, glancing up just in time to see the star split the sky. He barely registered its, his nerves were setting in, but he refused to cower now. He knelt, just next to her and pulled out the box he’d found in his father’s things.

“Oh, that’s was bea—” Jordan turned and saw him. “Nathan, what—”

“Jordan, after all this time, you must know how I feel about you. So I’m asking, please, if you’ll be my wife.”

“Nathan…”

Oh, god. She was going to say no. Her voice her face, everything was already telling him ‘no’, but she hadn’t quite found the word yet.

“The ring isn’t much,” He said, talking so that she couldn’t, filling the space where she would have put her no. “But I’ll get a better one just as soon as I can afford—”

“It’s not the ring, Nathan,” Jordan said. He didn’t think she—or anyone else for that matter—had said his name that many times in the last decade. “It’s—”

“Jordan, you don’t understand. You don’t know what I would do for you—”

“What—”

“Anything! I would do anything! I would…” His eyes searched their surroundings desperately and landed on the star-filled sky. “I would cross the wall and find the fallen star for you.”

“I don’t want—”

“I’ll do it,” He said. The wind was picking up. He could hear leaves rustling like a storm was coming. “I promise, I’ll find the star for you.”

“I’m going to go,” Jordan said. “Thank you for bringing me out here. I’m sorry… I’m sorry.” She turned away, turned towards town.

“Jordan!” He called after her. “I meant it! I’ll—”

“Nathan, stop! No one crosses the wall; don’t be crazy. Just go home.”

He watched her walk back towards town, and then looked through the trees where he could just barely see the darker outline of the wall through the trees.

Starfall had not gone according to plan, but now he had a new plan, even bolder than the last. He would find the star and bring it back, fashion it into a ring worthy of Jordan, and then she would have to say yes.

He steeled himself and turned towards the wall, letting his unfeeling fingers run across the ancient stone as he made his way towards the only gap in it. Jordan believed that no one could cross the wall. But Nathan Wuornos would.

* * *

The Sky Captain

On the other side of the wall, Duke Crocker didn’t know it was Starfall. Why should he? It was not an event for him, not since he had watched it with his father when he was a child. Not since his father had explained their duty, their destiny. 

It should have been just like any night, sailing across the clouds in the _Cape Rouge and_ daring anyone to stop him or attempt to mess with his cargo. He had a delivery to keep, and Duke Crocker had never missed a delivery. Despite his lack of crew, he was the best sky pirate in Haven, and he would be damned if he let anything get in the way of that.

This was why it came as such a shock when he realized he was off course. In fact, after a brief consultation with his charts, he realized he was lost.

He hadn’t been lost in years. It was something he’d always been good at, finding his way.

“Fine then, burn the charts,” He muttered, tossing them aside, grabbing his telescope, and leaving his cabin so he could climb up to the crow’s nest. The sky was spread out above him and the entire kingdom of Haven was spread out below him. All that was in between belonged to him, and he was sure that no man, not even the king of Haven, was richer than he was when he was sitting up here.

But he didn’t have much time to revel in the good fortune he’d found. He was lost, and his charts and compasses were failing him, which meant that he needed the stars, which would never fail him, could never fail him.

Except that he looked up and found that his star had failed him. He did a quick mental run of years and days, counting from when he’d had that fateful conversation with his father, and he realized what night it was.

He glanced at the space where his star should have been and sighed heavily. “Fuck.”

* * *

The King of Haven

King Maximalion was dying. He knew this, even though he couldn’t feel any of the many aches his physician assured him he was experiencing. He could taste his own end at the back of his throat. It would happen in a matter of days.

This wouldn’t have normally bothered him. Nothing bothered him, he was too grand and important to be bothered, even by such a thing as death. In fact, he had been fighting death for so long that it seemed fitting, finally, to allow it to happen. He was not losing, he was finally giving the reaper permission to take him, which was a victory.

No, it was not death which concerned him. It was life, legacy, the future. He had worked so hard to build this kingdom, to shape it into what he wanted, to make it grow and flourish, but there was no way of promising his people that it would continue without an heir built in his image.

He thought bitterly of the traitorous queen and all she had cost him. He’d had a son. If that boy had survived, all would be well. But he had not, and, hours from his death, Maximalion knew it was time to accept that.

His son would not take the throne, but Maximalion would be damned if he died before he decided who would.

He waved at his attendant. “Summon my Guard to me.”

Minutes later, his Guard filed in. They were Haven’s elite. Men who had sacrificed blood and comfort to be stronger, and who he knew would sacrifice more to be his successor. He could have easily picked his favorite from them, but that man would be a second choice and the sort who was too quick to kneel and kiss the ring on his finger.

No, that sort wouldn’t make a good king. A good king should have to earn it like Maximalion himself had when he had battled and murdered his cousins to take the throne for himself.

These men would have to battle one another if they wanted his crown.

“You all know why you’re here,” He said, his voice slower and thinner than he would have liked. “I am not a king who makes speeches, which you also know. In the absence of our prince, lost to the queen’s treachery, I am left to choose an heir. Choice has never been a part of Haven’s monarchy; do you think my uncle would have chosen me? Of course not. I earned my crown, and so too shall my heir earn it from me.”

They were waiting, all barely breathing, and Maximalion hated them a little bit for it. Had his son survived, he would not have been a poised like these men, like they were ready to spring into battle at any second, he would be standing tall, assured of his ability.

“This is the third Starfall I have witnessed, each time, I watch the star land somewhere in my kingdom and think she rightly belongs to me, and so I charge you all to do what I never did. My promise is thus, he who finds the star and brings her back to this castle shall be the king of Haven.”

He felt the stir in the air of a vow well-made. He saw his guard begin to speak to each other, each filing out the door without another word, without offering any wishes to him. They no longer needed to genuflect or bother with pleasantries; he had made his promise, so the competition for his favor they’d been in for years was over, and a new competition had begun.

He was alone, and wondering about the lost prince, his long dead son, when his final breath left his throat.

* * *

A Man Beginning A Quest

Averet McHugh, known only by his surname to all who valued their lives, had been preparing for this moment for over thirty years. It was his father, a member of the king’s guard himself, who had first told him that the infant prince of Haven was lost. McHugh had taken the news as any six-year-old child would: with mild disinterest. It was only after his father had explained what it meant, that the king was without an heir, that McHugh had begun to understand.

“Wouldn’t you like to be a king, Averet?”

Indeed, he had wanted to be king, and with the queen dead and the king making no secret of the fact that he would not remarry, the crown could go to anyone.

“I am too old,” His father had said. “I will not outlive our king, but you, son, will.”

McHugh had nodded, with the same confidence in his own immortality that all children had.

“You will live, and you will join the guard, and you will be chosen as the next king.”

In all ways, McHugh had followed his father’s wishes. He had survived and joined the king’s guard and risen in the ranks even faster than his father before him. He had learned politics and war and flattery and all the subtle skills most needed to thrive at Maximalion’s court.

When the time had come, he had inherited his father’s curse just as he’d expected to, and then it had become both easier and more essential that he be able to defeat the enemies his ambition was beginning to earn him.

His father had died, as expected, long before the king, but McHugh’s faith hadn’t wavered. There was no man in the guard more qualified for the position than he was, and if he had to kill every single one of them on the way to the star, then he damn well would.

“McHugh!”

He turned. Kessler was waiting for him. They had been friends for a long time; their fathers had been in the guard together. Kessler knew him well and was too smart to try to cross swords with him. McHugh relaxed.

“Help you with something?”

“Maybe,” Kess said with a smile. “I might be able to help you too.”

“Meaning what?”

Kessler shrugged. “We could team up. I’m good with a map, good with people, you’re good with a blade, good in the wilderness. We make a damn fine team, and we’ll need all those skills and then some if we seek the star.”

“If?” McHugh smiled. “I’m not sure where you stand, but I am seeking the star.”

“I am not,” Kess said. “I’ve no head for politics and no patience for pageantry. “I could help you.”

“Why?”

Kessler’s smile was a little too smooth. “It’s never too soon to start currying favor with the next king. I’d like a nice, comfortable position at court, maybe a rich wife. In exchange, I’ll help you get the star.” 

McHugh nodded. Everything Kessler was saying made sense, but McHugh had not gotten this far in life by ignoring his instincts, so he offered his oldest friend a test, and feigned a reason to turn his back. When he looked back again, Kessler’s hand was on his knife.

“Are you certain, Kess?” He asked, suddenly deeply weary. “Because once you begin—”

“I know your curse,” Kessler said. “And I am certain. I truly did want to work together, but you were already suspicious; it wouldn’t have lasted.”

“No,” McHugh sighed. “It wouldn’t have.”

He drew his sword with some reluctance, but no less confidence, and braced himself. Kessler, of course, made the first move, and McHugh felt his curse sweep through him the second their blades touched. By the end of this fight, one of them would be dead. That was the choice Kess had made, and McHugh had to let him, because he had no choice. Once his curse kicked in, the fight was as good as done.

When it was over, McHugh walked away from Kess’s body with some regret. Typically, an old friend, even a traitor of a friend, would have deserved a burial or some words, but the fight had slowed him down, putting behind other members of the guard.

Somewhere out in the kingdom that would soon be his, a star was waiting, just fallen, and McHugh intended to find it and bring it back to the castle with no interference.

* * *

The Warlock’s Daughter

For Mara and her father, Starfall was as much of a holiday as the anniversary of a great enemy’s death, but it was not one they could celebrate in the traditional sense. Mara was a witch who loved a party, but only when there wasn’t work to be done, and there was always work to be done where stars were concerned.

She climbed down from her tower, winding through dingy stone corridors, snapping bits of magic at the rats she saw on the way, and hissing when she realized she barely had enough power to hurt them, much less kill them.

“Father!” She called when she had entered the main part of the house. “Wake up! The star has fallen!”

Her father entered the room slowly, moving like shadow. “And? What news?”

“She is in the North, a good distance away.”

Her father frowned, his face was always shrouded in darkness, no matter how many candles were lit, but Mara had learned to read it well. “Travel will be difficult after what the last one did.”

Mara nodded, glancing down at her ringless finger, her eyes narrowing at the mere memory of the last star. “One travels faster than two. Who will go?”

Her father studied her. “You think it should be you.” It was not a question, and he was right. Mara was younger, quicker, and more adapted to the world, her father was an ancient creature, and unsettling to normal people. They would see him and know him for what he was much faster than they would Mara.

“You failed last time,” Her father reminded her.

Mara’s jaw tightened. He so loved to bring that up. “We got it in the end,” She replied, as she always did.

“And this time?” He asked. “You know it is insanity to do the same thing over and over, expecting change.”

This was a test. Most things were a test with him, but over the centuries they had been aligned—he was, after all, not really her father—she had thought perhaps the tests would come less often. At least she had gotten good at them. “I said nothing about doing things the same way.”

His slow smile spread across his face like a shadow. “What will you do?”

“I will retrieve the star,” She said simply. “No complications, no allies, no agenda. I will find the star and bring it back here and we will have twenty-seven more years of peace.”

“And what if I said I could do the same?” Her father said.

Mara only scoffed. They both new that she could do things he couldn’t. She was never unnoticed, but mere beauty wasn’t suspicious, not in a world as full of magic as Haven. She would be noticed, but not stopped, not questioned.

Her father, on the other hand, would be known for a warlock as soon as anyone laid eyes on him, and he would be arrested at best, attacked at worst.

He was safest and most useful here, using the eyes he had hidden around the kingdom to tell her where to go. This was how they had been collecting stars for centuries, and her mistake with the last star was not enough to change their habit.

If he was going to kill her for her failure, he’d have done so after last time, before sharing the star’s power with her.

At last, her father nodded. “Don’t fail again.”

And Mara smiled. “I won’t.”

* * *

Of course, before all this could happen, before Nathan could make his promise, before Duke could have lost his way, before the Guard could begin their quest, before Mara and her father could make their plans, something had to happen.

It was the same thing that happened every twenty-seven years over Haven and Haven-Over-Wall, but even still it came as a surprise to those most involved.

It would be wrong to say that Audrey didn’t think she would be the star to fall. It would be wrong to say that Audrey thought at all, because stars don’t have minds or souls the way people do. They move in their infinite dance, tracing patterns that have been used to make maps, to tell futures, to ease pain for longer than humanity has had words to name them by.

Still, when the ability to think crashed on Audrey, she would think that it shouldn’t have been her. She knew her steps, knew her place in the dance of the heavens so well that it never should have happened.

Destiny, it is said, is written in the stars, but that begs the question of whether or not stars have destinies. Perhaps, like minds and souls, they only come when a star falls. Or, possibly, stars and destiny are so linked that Audrey never had a destiny so much as she _was_ the destiny. Certainly, given the events of the night, this seems likely, for her actions are what began all these events.

Despite how well Audrey knew the steps, despite how often she had gazed down on Haven and Haven-Over-Wall or the other without missing a beat, on this night, when Audrey looked down, she missed a step.

One step should not have been so much, should not have shaken the fabric of the universe, but tonight was Starfall.

So this time, when Audrey looked, saw flashes of a man trying to propose, of a man on a boat that sailed the skies, a witch who watched the stars just as Audrey watched the world, she did not place her celestial form in precisely the right place, what should have been her position failed.

And she fell.


	2. In Which Our Heroes Start Their Journeys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so so much for reading this. I'm posting it to celebrate finishing a masters program, since I won't be having a graduation. Comments and kudos are extremely appreciated, with weird au's it's always great to hear people's thoughts. Thank you as always to the wonderful Ashe Gendernoncompliant; you're brilliant :) Enjoy!

There is a moment after a great thing happens which is like the quiet between claps of thunder. Silence so loud it echoes, so big that it can be felt. This is the moment that the players in our story found themselves in.

This is not a moment that will be discussed in the histories or the legends. It is a moment for pausing, for taking first breaths and thinking first thoughts and making first plans towards a ridiculous goal. It is not an important moment, a chapter one might skip in a book, and yet it is the most important. For it is all well and good to make grand promises, to realize you have a destiny, to find yourself in a story you’d thought you’d only get to watch, but it is entirely another to take action. To keep a promise, to fight or embrace a destiny, to make yourself a part of the story.

* * *

_Promise Maker_

_No one crosses the wall_. Jordan had said it and Nathan had argued. She was, technically, right. No one from their side of the wall crossed to the other, but that didn’t mean no one could. Why shouldn’t Nathan be the first? There must be a first sometime; it might as well be him.

So he walked with shocking, unfounded confidence towards the gap in the wall. He carried nothing with him except his love for Jordan and the strength of the promise he’d made.

The gap was, of course, guarded. As long as the gap had been there, there had been a guard sitting at it.

“Evening, Nathan,” Dwight said pleasantly. “Come out to watch Starfall?”

Nathan doubted that Dwight didn’t know that the star had already fallen. He didn’t seem like the type that missed things, and he wouldn’t have become a wall guard if he was. “Already saw it,” Nathan said. “I’m here because I’m going to cross the wall.”

Several expressions passed over Dwight’s face, the one that Nathan caught most was pity. “No one crosses the wall, Nathan.”

“I will,” Nathan said.

Dwight’s hands shifted on the staff he held. “Nathan,” He said very slowly, “No one crosses the wall.”

Even knowing that it was a threat, Nathan ran at him, thinking that perhaps the sheer audacity of the plan would be enough to throw him off.

It was not. Nathan didn’t feel the blow exactly, but he was aware that he couldn’t breathe and that he was doubled over as Dwight pulled his staff away from Nathan’s stomach, a mild look of regret on his face.

“Go home,” He said, kind to a fault, so kind that Nathan hated him for it. 

He did not take his advice.

Instead, he lunged again, and received the same treatment, but the thing about not feeling pain was that getting knocked around wasn’t a strong deterrent. He was on a mission and goddamn he was going to fulfill it. He had made a promise.

When he’d landed on his ass for the third time, Dwight sighed, glaring at him in the closest thing to a display of frustration Nathan had ever seen from him. “Next time, I’m knocking you out and carrying you home. Stop.”

“Why?” Nathan asked, jutting his chin out. “Why shouldn’t I cross? I’m from over there; that’s what they all say.”

“You don’t want to go there, Nathan,” Dwight said, his town deadly serious.

He noticed, of course, that Dwight had not denied the fact that he was from the other side of the wall, not that Nathan really thought there was any reason Dwight should know better than he did. Hell, for all Nathan knew, Dwight bought into the town rumors as much as anyone else.

“You can’t stop me,” Nathan said.

Dwight gestured with his staff, clearly suggesting that he could.

“You’ll get tired before I do,” Nathan promised.

“You’ll get unconscious before I do,” Dwight said. “Just give it up. Please”

Nathan had many faults but giving up easily wasn’t one of them. He braced himself, ready to throw himself at Dwight at least one more time, aiming for the gap in the wall just behind him, ready to duck under Dwight’s staff and crash over the stones. Once he was over, no one would chase him.

His plan was a good one. It almost worked, even, but Dwight was too fast, catching Nathan in his ribs and throwing him to the ground again.

“Nathan,” Dwight said. “Go. Home.”

“I’m coming back,” Nathan warned him. “I’m going to get through.”

Dwight sighed, sounding like a much older man. “Nathan, trust me. This is for your sake. Don’t try to cross the wall again.”

Nathan returned home, feeling like more of a disgrace than usual. He had one plan, one final thing on which his entire future happiness was hanging, and he was failing already. He pulled his shirt off and checked for signs of injury. His hands skimmed over bruises, tracing them without interest or feeling. The damage was visible but not harmful; Dwight had been warning him, not really trying to hurt him.

“How the hell did that happen?” His father asked gruffly from the doorway.

Nathan jumped, fighting the urge to try and cover himself. “Dwight,” He grumbled as soon as he’d recovered.

“Dwight, the wall guard?” His father asked.

“Yes, Dwight the wall guard.”

“Why?” Nathan could hear the ‘why on earth would you pick a fight with that man?’ in his father’s voice and he hated it, hated everything.

Still, anything was easier than trying to lie to his father. “Iwastryingtocrossthewall.”

“Come again?” His father’s voice was low and suspicious.

Nathan was sure he’d heard him the first time, but still, he screwed up his courage and said, as clearly as he could manage, “I was trying to cross the wall.”

“So, you figured it out,” His father said, his voice heavy and his eyes weary.

Nathan swallowed. He hadn’t figured anything out, hadn’t realized there was something to figure out in the first place.

“I always knew you would one day; honestly I’m surprised it took so long, what with your… condition.”

“My condition?” Nathan said stupidly. He and his father had only spoken about it a few times, and every time his father had assured him that he didn’t need help, that he wasn’t sick, but he offered no other explanation for why Nathan’s skin didn’t work the same way everyone else’s did. As a child it had been frightening, as an adult it was just very, very isolating.

“They said your father had it too, but I never met him. Only barely knew your mother, for that matter, never should have met her.”

“What are you talking about?” Nathan asked. His father had never spoken about her this much; the last time he’d even mentioned her was when Nathan was nine and had finally asked where she was.

‘Dead’ was all the answer he’d gotten.

And now, his father was talking like this was a confessional, like he’d held these words for a long time.

“Years ago,” The sheriff said, “When I was about your age; I was curious. I’d heard stories about the wall—all the same stories you’ve heard—and I wanted to know if they were true.”

“You crossed the wall,” Nathan said.

“Vince Teagues was the wall guard back then,” He said. “It was easy to trick him and get across. I found myself in the kingdom of Haven.”

“Haven?” Nathan asked. Their little village was Haven-Over-Wall, but somehow it had never crossed Nathan’s mind to think that there was another Haven, that theirs had gotten its name from some fantastical ‘real’ Haven.

“It’s not like here,” His father explained. “There’s magic there. Promises, on the other side of the wall, they mean something. You can’t break a promise; you have to see it to its end.”

Nathan remembered the way the wind had gotten stronger when he’d made his vow to Jordan. He swallowed. He couldn’t feel what it was, but something was off, wrong, as if the hairs on the back of his neck were standing up.

“I met a woman,” His father said. “Someone important. She’d made a promise, gotten into a bad situation. I promised I would find a way to help her and it was like… there was something about it, Nathan. I can’t describe it.”

“Like the wind picked up,” Nathan said mechanically, “Like the words echoed even though they didn’t. Like they became something solid.”

His father nodded slowly. “How do you know…”

“I’m from the other side of the wall,” Nathan said slowly.

His father nodded. “Months after I returned home, I was still thinking of Elspeth. That’s when Vince Teagues knocked on my door, said something had been left at the wall for me.”

His father turned away and rummaged in an old closet until he found a basket. “She left you for me. And she left this.”

He handed Nathan a note.

_Dear Garland,_

_You made a promise, and I hope that even over the wall, you must keep it. This is my son. He needs to be protected from his father, who will twist him in all the ways he’s been twisted. I am bound by my promises and my mistakes. You cannot save me, but you can save my son. His name is Nathan. Keep him safe. Keep him away from the wall. Keep your promise._

Nathan’s head spun, the only thing to let him know that he was holding his breath. He let it out carefully. This was more information than he’d ever thought he’d get about his mother. This note made her real in a way that she never had been, existing as a figure in dreams, a concept more than a once-living person.

“She was… protecting me?” Nathan said. “But… from what?”

“Your father, the one from over the wall.”

“Did Dwight… know that? Was that why he didn’t want me to cross?”

“The wall guards don’t want anyone to cross, but he may have known the truth,” He said.

The truth about him. Nathan couldn’t believe there _was_ a truth about him. He’d always known he was different; there was no way to avoid knowing that, but that the superstitious gossips had been right about him, that he really was a foundling from the other side of the wall…

And his father had been there. That his father—gruff, practical Garland Wuornos—had once dreamed of adventure and had run off to the other side of the wall seemed just as impossible as Nathan being some sort of fae creature.

“What was it like?” He asked.

His father, predictably, obfuscated. “Not so much unlike here, except for the magic. I was there during some great festival, everyone in masks and things. Wild place. Dangerous.”

“I have to go,” Nathan said. “I need to… That’s where I’m from, I need to know.” He stared at the letter in his hands. “She might still be alive.”

“I doubt that. What she said about your father… I doubt it very much.”

Nathan ignored him. Perhaps on the other side of the wall there were answers, perhaps there was a cure for whatever was wrong with him. He could return home with the star, with a story, and without the condition that had plagued him since childhood. This time it would go away and stay away.

“I’m going.”

His father relented more easily than Nathan had expected, which only stung a little. Promises of protection were only worth so much when the thing you were protecting was the freak son of a monster. “Always knew this day would come.” He reached into the basket and pulled out a note.

Nathan swallowed hard. His mother had written—her handwriting beautiful and recognizable even though Nathan had only just seen it for the first time—Nathan’s name on note.

“This was left at the wall twenty-seven years ago. I think… well, I think if your mother could have come herself, she would have.” He continued rummaging. “Where the…”

Nathan swallowed. Carefully, he pulled the box he’d offered to Jordan out of his pocket. “This? I found it-- I thought…”

His father sighed. “It was yours.”

 _Would have been nice if you’d told me that,_ Nathan thought, but he kept it to himself, turning his attention to the box, which seemed much more interesting now.

It was lined in a soft, expensive fabric Nathan couldn’t name, its color a very dark blue-black that shifted in the lamplight. He emptied it into his hand, staring at the pattern of interlocking diamonds carved into the band.

Unable to stall any longer, Nathan unfolded the note, taking in his mother’s words.

_My dearest Nathan,_

_I hope that you’re reading this as a man who grew up safe and happy, far from the intrigue and danger of my world. I hope that you’re reading it and thinking of me; know that I will think of you every day for as long as I breathe. Someday, it may be safe for you to return. I cannot know when that will be. If you’re reading this, the day has not come that I can go to the wall and retrieve you, so it may be you that takes the journey. The ring will make it easier. Hold onto it and think of me, waiting for you across the wall. It will bring you where you want to go. Be safe, my precious son. You are loved._

Nathan refused to cry in front of his father, refused to acknowledge the ache that had settled in him, deeper than sensation. She loved him. She thought of him every day. He doubted that even Garland, with whom Nathan lived, thought of him every day. That all along, through the whole mess of his life, this person might have been waiting for him over the wall…

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He said, his voice low, furious. “All this time, you could have told me. At least then I would have known what was wrong with me, that—”

“I was trying to protect—”

“Horseshit!” Nathan snapped. “You were protecting yourself. Lying through your teeth to save your skin and your reputation. If anyone had known you’d crossed the wall, that you’d gone there and come back, you’d be ruined, called cursed.”

Garland opened his mouth to defend himself but words that had been buried so deeply for so long were pouring out of Nathan, part of him wanted to stop but he couldn’t. “Cursed like me.”

“Nathan—”

But he was furious. His plan to become someone—anyone—other than Garland Wuornos’s freak son resurfaced with a vengeance. He would retrieve the star; he would get fame and fortune across the wall and bring it back with him. They could call him cursed if they wanted but none of them would ever forget that he had his own name.

He gripped the ring tight in one fist, the letter clutched in the other. He tried to focus his thoughts, tried to think only of the mother who would have kept him, but his thoughts boiled out of his control. He remembered his promise, Jordan.

He still wanted to be Jordan McKee’s husband, still wanted to fulfill that vow. He felt himself moving. It was disorienting, horrifying, probably painful, like tumbling down a hill in reverse.

He was aware that he was traveling, aware that he’d left his father’s lamplit cottage behind, that he’d crossed the wall and was hurtling through the night sky.

 _Like the star,_ He thought, the first clear thing through the haze of confusion. With that crystalline clarity, the world jerked sharply and came back into focus as he landed.

* * *

_Man With a Destiny_

Duke Crocker was still lost. There wasn’t much to be done about it; how the hell was he supposed to find his way if his guiding star had decided to abandon her post? With nothing to do until morning, where he could reorient himself based on landmarks below him, he set the _Rouge_ on a steady course and sat on the deck with a bottle of something he’d won in a game against a witch so clever she’d convinced him she was beautiful.

She had told him it was powerful stuff, that it could drag things free of you, let you release them into the air. He’d figured she was just a potion-brewer with a good sales pitch, but the cards had been good and the sex better, so he’d happily considered all debts paid despite no coins changing hands.

He took a long sip, enjoying the rich burn, the way it tasted like every alcohol he’d ever gotten drunk on and none of them all at once.

 _Magic users,_ he thought with a rueful smile, _Never can keep things simple, can they?_

It also, he thought, tasted just a little like the air near the forest where he’d grown up, the faint sting of a much cheaper liquor that bled through the worn beams of his house no matter how hard he’d scrubbed. It tasted, he thought, a little like the way his father smelled during the last Starfall.

He’d been a child then, too young to fully understand what his father had told him. Understanding had crept in slowly as Duke got older, as he learned more about the world and about his father.   
When he’d first heard it that night, the word destiny had seemed mysterious and distant, like cities and sky ships and the wall, but later it had become something looming and present, tangible anytime his feet touched solid ground.

The solution to that, of course, was to steal a sky ship and stay as far away from solid ground as he could, as much as he could.

And Duke had done it gloriously. He looked around the Rouge, a little battered around the edges but sturdy and beautiful as a ship could be, on sea or sky. He remembered winning her, remembered how the man had raged, had accused him of cheating, how somehow in the midst of that rage, he had figured out how Duke had been cheating. Another sip of the witch-liquor tasted the way the wind had tasted when he’d stolen her anyway, barely clearing the red roofs of the buildings nearest the port. God, that air had tasted good and clean and free.

Duke shook his head, clearing the memories, and looked down at the bottle in his hand. Witch liquor. He should have known it would be more than just particularly good, should have realized it would be woven with some kind of power. This one seemed to be memory, which was so infuriating Duke had half a mind to try and track down the witch who’d given it to him.

Who in the stars’ names drank because they wanted to remember something? This sort of thing was why Duke didn’t trust magic. Magic, for all its uses—not the least of which was keeping his ship in the air—was a nuisance if overused. Magic was what tied destinies together, and as Duke wanted to be as untied as possible, he was quite pleased to avoid magic forever.

No, magic was only good for profit. He would deal in it, sell it or carry it as needed, but he would never wield it.

He glanced back up at the hole in the sky where his guiding star should have been. Magic or destiny had been at fault for that too. Some ancient power that chose which star would plummet and land on this overcomplicated, magic-addled rock.

It must have been unpleasant, Duke thought, to be ripped out of a home and tossed to the ground below, where it was loud and crowded and confusing.

“You’d have better luck out here,” Duke told the remaining stars. “Find yourself a ship and spend your days halfway to the world you left behind. Anything’s better than being on the ground.”

* * *

_The Star_

Audrey was not enjoying her first few seconds of being alive. She was thinking for the first time, which meant suddenly she had thousands of years of vague impressions of life as a star to track and rationalize, which was more than a little overwhelming.

 _Thinking is a curse,_ She thought. What she would have given to be able to reach up and find a ladder she could climb and climb and climb until she could rejoin her sisters in the infinite dance.

Stars had no concept of justice, of what was fair or unfair, they were too far away for all that, but Audrey was not far away anymore. She found that the idea that missing one step—one infinitesimal step—could send her plummeting to this charred out patch of road in Haven deeply unfair.

When experiencing unfairness for the first time, a lesser star might have cried, but Audrey had never been a lesser star, and instead she was angry. It was also her first experience with anger, and she was enjoying it more than she had enjoyed thinking, unfairness, or any of the other new things that had been so rudely thrust upon her.

Stewing in anger was nice for a while, she let herself just relax into it, but soon she was bored; she wanted to move, wanted to do something. It was a lovely, clear night and the instinct to dance was still strong in her. She stood, but almost immediately fell back down. Her knee—a new and deeply inconvenient body part—hurt badly.

This was finally something she knew about. Injuries were something she’d seen on her many glances down towards the world. Humans were always finding funny and not so funny ways to hurt themselves.

That was what finally made it all feel real. The fact that her knee hurt, that suddenly _she_ could be injured, meant that she must have done the impossible, the horrible.

She had fallen from her sky and landed among humans, suddenly a part of the story she had so long watched unfold beneath her.

She thought of grand adventures, of kings and quests she’d witnessed over the years, of murders and heists and romances. Those were things that only happened here, under the stars. Could _she_ be part of that story? She found that, as unpleasant as injuries and emotions were, she wouldn’t mind an adventure.

After all her millennia of observation, she knew plenty about adventures, but not quite how they started. What were the first steps? How did one find an adventure? She couldn’t expect one to just come hurtling—

A force came hurtling at her with nearly as much power as she’d come crashing to the ground with earlier. She was flung away, hitting the side of her crater and jarring her already injured knee.

It took a moment for the confusion to clear. Despite her knee, she still wasn’t used to pain, and it was an ugly, disorienting thing, on top of every other ugly disorienting thing she was dealing with for the first time.

“You need some help?”

She looked up, taking in her assailant. He was tall and thin with limbs he couldn’t quite seem to keep track of, which explained his oafish entrance into her life.

She glared. “No, no, I’m alright, thanks.”

He shrugged. “Okay.” He turned away, looking around and taking in their surroundings for the first time. “Wait, this is a crater! this must be where the star fell.” He turned to her with suspicion.

She saw him reach down and an instant later realized he was going for a small knife he had tucked in his boot.

She grabbed the nearest weapon—a jagged shard of rock—and lunged for him. He pulled his own knife and they were standing face to face, weapon on skin; his at her throat, hers at his chest.

“Where’s the star?” He demanded in a voice that seemed unused to making demands.

She nearly rolled her eyes. “Take a guess.”

His knife pressed just a little closer, not quite hurting but very present. “Tell me where it is.”

“I’m the star. Who are you?”

“Tell me where it is!” He shouted again, half drowning out her words.

“Are you deaf? _I’m_ the star.”

His eyes narrowed. “How do I know that?”

She sighed. “Well, let’s see,” She pointed at the sky, where her absence was marked by darkness. “Right there is where I was minding my own business before plummeting out of my home, right there is where I landed—painfully, thank you for asking—and right here, here is where I got knocked to the ground by a magical, flying moron.”

She watched as the—apparently very slow—wheels turned in his head. “But… you’re a woman.”

Audrey bit back a groan. “No. I’m a _star_.”

He looked at her, really looked for the first time and she saw it click into place. She was angry and tired and more scared than she would admit to, so she wouldn’t be glowing, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t see her otherworldliness.

He took a long breath and slowly lowered his knife. Carefully, she pulled her rock away, noticing that she’d managed to scratch him through the thin material of his shirt.

“Sorry,” She muttered insincerely.

He glanced down at the small bloodstain. “S’fine. Didn’t even feel it.” Looking vaguely uncomfortable, he changed the subject. “Do you have a name?”

She pinched her lips. He didn’t seem like the dangerous sort that could twist a name up and use it against her. “Audrey.”

He held out his hand. “Nathan Wuornos.”

Audrey looked around. “And how did you get here, Nathan Wuornos?”

He held out his hand, palm up. “This. It was supposed to take me to my mother, but… I don’t think—”

“I’m not your mother,” She said quickly, shuddering a little.

He looked down at the ring resting on his palm. “Oh. It’s broken.”

Audrey followed his gaze, studying the cracked ring more carefully. “That’s a traveler’s band,” She said, reaching out to touch it.

Nathan Wuornos jerked his hand away from her. “Be careful!”

She rolled her eyes. “It only breaks if you use it,” She said, already bored and tired of the conversation. “It’s star magic; it can’t be contained in objects for long.”

He nodded but she thought he looked like he had no idea what she was talking about. “So, it was supposed to break.”

She nodded again and spoke more slowly. “Yes. It’s powerful enough to take someone anywhere; metal can’t contain it.”

Audrey wasn’t certain how she knew these it, but the knowledge seemed baked into her mind as surely as her name. She could sense the magic in it, that it had been scraped from a crater like this one long ago and forged into this ring in a method that had been lost to time. She could also sense its limits and knew that there was only one use left.

“It will shatter if you use it again.”

A tragic look flitted over his face, revealing the first hint of depth she’d gotten from him, but he didn’t say anything. “We’ll have to walk then,” he said.

“We?” Audrey said doubtfully. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“Yes, you are,” He said. “I need you to.”

“Why?” More of the slippery knowledge was hovering at the edge of her mind; stars were special, valuable. There were people in this world that would hurt a fallen star.

She wondered if it was easier for humans to think. Did thoughts come to them without feeling like they’d had to swim for miles to get there? If everything wasn’t so new and different and painful, she might have managed to understand where the danger was, what it looked like.

“I made a promise,” Nathan said. “I told someone I would bring her the fallen star.”

Audrey bit back a groan. That, at least, was a magic she could understand. “You should know better than to make promises that involve others. I won’t go with you.”

“I didn’t—” His jaw tightened. “Come with me to Haven-Over-Wall, meet Jordan, tell her what you are, and I’ll give you the ring.”

“What?”

“It could take you home, right?” He said. “You said it could go anywhere.”

Audrey looked up. Her sisters were burning tonight; brilliant and beautiful even so far away. “No star has ever come back after falling.”

 _This world is dangerous for stars,_ She thought. It was a ghost of a memory, but she knew it was true. Perhaps her fallen sisters hadn’t returned because they’d been harmed, not because it was impossible. 

“Promise me,” She said. Promises were powerful.

He closed his fist over the ring, but held it out to her. “I promise that if you help me fulfill my promise, I will give you this ring.”

She felt the impact of the promise, felt the watching stars shift and whisper. It was a perfect arrangement; she would go with him, see this world and some of his, and then return to her home having had her adventure. It was not the auspicious beginning she’d have liked, but that left plenty of room for improvement.

So Audrey smiled for the first time in her long existence. “You have a deal, Nathan Wuornos.”


	3. In Which Our Heroes Are On The Road to Almost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading my weird au. I hope you're staying well.

Constellations are drawn by people who take it upon themselves to make connections between the stars. If asked, a star would probably call this arrogance, that some sky-watching human would presume to designate partners for them in the dance. Not that anyone had ever bothered to ask the stars what they thought.

In any case, it must be the same for destiny, who works hard to connect different people into the same events. How much effort does it take to bring a traveler, a fallen star, a witch, a man with no feelings, and a pirate onto the same road at the same time, so that they might be a part of the same story?

The history students who would later be made to learn this tale would certainly struggle to make these connections. They are not allowed, in their essays and recitations, to claim that it was destiny that brought these disparate journeyers together on the road to Almost. The particularly intrepid student would be correct in thinking there were machinations involved which had nothing to do with destiny, for she is a picky lady and can’t be bothered with every wayward adventure. In any case, destiny needn’t get herself involved wherever there is an especially determined witch involved. The extremely determined, in fact, are the best agents of destiny that exist, for they set out to ensure that things go according to one plan or another, and then destiny need only make minor adjustments accordingly.

For those that don’t believe in destiny—or who choose to reject it—they can then credit those cunning strategists and never worry that individuals weren’t the captains of their own fate. As always, the truth falls somewhere in the middle, that sometimes fate, coincidence, and very clever planning become engaged in an intimate dance, and the people who most need to find each other do, though just as often this means that they may end up crossing paths and blades with people who would do them harm.

Perhaps, the results of these fights are in Lady Destiny’s hands, but it is perhaps more likely that they are in the hands of those holding the swords, and whether or not they choose to raise them.

* * *

_The Traveler_

McHugh was remembering why he hated camping. It had been years since he’d been a spy for his majesty and longer still since he’d carried messages. For six years he’d been one of the nine elite guards who stayed with the king. For the last six months, the king had been bedridden and even before that, he’d kept to the castle, too afraid of his enemies seeing his weakness.

He looked at the shadows on the other side of his small, smoky fire, remembering Kessler’s offer. A part of him that he’d much rather have ignored regretted what had happened that night. He had meant to leave his feelings at the castle with Kess’s body, but even riding for the rest of the night and half the following day had not managed to shake the memories out of his head.

Kess had been his partner during his messenger days, had been there when he’d been a spy on Lord Anville. As children, barely more than boys, he and Kess had been two sides of a triangle. Never would he have dreamt that he would be undertaking this journey on his own, his friends dead and gone. Perhaps, though, this was better; it would have ended with McHugh killing them for the star at some point.

He figured this was easier, that one friend was a traitor who had disappeared—probably left to drown in the Black Well, knowing Maximalion’s policy on traitors—and one was dead before the journey had even begun. There would be no distractions, no loyalties to test his resolve.

He would be king.

McHugh glanced back at his horse, the only companion he could trust now. He hadn’t kept his own horse in ages, preferring to use one from the king’s stable. He’d selected this mount without a thought, picking something fast a sturdy and getting on his way. “I suppose I’ll have to name you now.”

The horse blinked at him disinterestedly and went back to tearing the leaves off of a nearby fern.

A twig snapped somewhere nearby. McHugh tensed, but he continued his conversation with the horse as if he hadn’t heard it, drawing his sword silently. “Could call you glutton,” He said, “Because you obviously are one.”

He took a careful step forward, shifting his grip so he could attack. “Or maybe fern, since that’s what you’re eating.”

He was already lunging when he saw the flash of a blade. He’d known when he built the fire out of damp wood that the smoke might give him away to any assassin and upstart who thought to test him.

In the end, it wasn’t really even a fight. Lying on the ground was hardly an advantageous position for anyone, and McHugh was faster than most.

He kicked the body over, and couldn’t name would-be assassin, though he was sure he’d been a member of the guard. “You should have stayed focused on the star instead of going out of your way to kill me.”

The corpse, naturally, didn’t respond.

His campsite having been spoiled, McHugh went through his assassin’s pockets, taking food and some coin, before he climbed on the nameless horse. “Perhaps I’ll name you after him, huh? Call you Assassin?”

The horse let out a particularly loud fart as he shifted into a trot, and McHugh took that as him agreeing to his new name.

He guided Ass onto the road, urging him into a swift canter. He would make good time, and Almost was only a few miles away.

* * *

_The Fallen Star_

Audrey refused to tell Nathan that she needed a rest. She refused to admit to him that she was exhausted, that her knee hurt, that she had never seen this much daylight in her millennia of existence and that her eyes hurt, and her head hurt from thinking about that and trying to remember what she’d learned about this sad little kingdom when she’d watched it as a star.

Unfortunately, Audrey’s new mind couldn’t shape her old memories into something comprehensible and everything was a mystery.

What she wanted most was to complain about this, to gripe loudly while shaking her fist at the uncaring sky that had so harshly rejected her, but to do so would have meant allowing Nathan even the slightest insight into her thoughts, and she’d have rather tried her hand at drowning.

Nathan, meanwhile, was utterly oblivious. He walked along, unfeeling and uncaring, as if it wasn’t midday, as if this was a normal time to be up and about and walking across a kingdom.

At least he seemed almost as ill at ease in this forest as she was. Ahead of her, he walked into a tree branch, though he barely even flinched.

“Are you alright?” She asked, surprised to find herself concerned.

He shrugged. “Didn’t feel it.”

“Really?” She asked. She’d thought his reaction to her scratching him with the stone had been a front. “You really can’t feel anything?”

He sighed. “No.”

She couldn’t make him feel her pain, but she could damn well annoy him, and even if it was only half as much as his silence annoyed her, it would be worth it. “Can you feel pain?”

“No.”

“Can you feel fire?”

“No.”

“Can you feel ice?”

“Oddly yes, I can feel ice.”

“You can feel ice?” She asked, surprised and distracted.

He turned around so he could glare over his shoulder at her. “No, but I can feel a headache coming on.”

“You can feel headaches?”

“No! I can’t feel anything,” He snapped, a muscle in his jaw popping out.

Audrey raised her eyebrows and looked away. “Wow. For a guy who can’t feel you sure are sensitive.”

They walked in silence for a long way, long enough that Audrey started to feel a little bad. She had wanted to annoy him, not hurt him.

“Look, I… I’m sorry.”

He grunted, which she assumed meant she could keep talking.

“I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.” She flinched when she realized what she’d said. “What I meant—”

But when she looked up, his shoulders were shaking just a little, and she endured the pain in her knee long enough to catch up with him to see the faintest flick of a smile on his face.

 _So you_ can _laugh,_ Audrey thought, storing this useful piece of information away in the part of her memory that worked.

“Can you hurry up?” He asked, the humor gone. “I need to get you back to Jordan before we die of old age.”

“Old age,” Audrey said, “Hilarious.”

“What?”

Clueless bastard. “I’m thousands of years old.”

“Oh.”

She sighed. Somehow, she didn’t think he understood that she was a star, despite everything. Of course, she hadn’t been shining since she’d landed here—too much pain and irritation—but how did he miss everything else?

More quiet. God, how did he bear the constant silence? Was he used to it because it was the only thing happening in his head? Grimacing, Audrey resigned herself to talking about the one thing he might be interested in talking about. “So, tell me about Jordan.”

His face got a little stupider, somehow. “She’s beautiful. She has black hair and dark eyes and her skin is so pale—”

“What else?” Audrey asked. Humans all had roughly the same collection of eyes, noses, and chins regardless of what shapes they were, and she wasn’t overly interested.

“Well,” Nathan said. “She’s very strong. She acts like she doesn’t like anybody, but I don’t think she means it.”

Audrey tuned him out, deciding that next time she would savor his prolonged silence. She couldn’t quite pin down why, but she didn’t like hearing about the woman she would be presented to like a wedding present.

“She’s not very patient,” Nathan was saying. “And we don’t have much time; I have to get back to Haven-Over-Wall before—”

“Haven-Over-Wall?” Audrey asked.

“Yes?”

Audrey sighed. Of course. “You’re not from Haven.”

“Not this one,” He said. “I told you that.” 

He had told her that, and she’d barely been paying attention, but still. It explained why he didn’t know anything; he was just as lost in this world as she was. Which struck her suddenly as a problem. “How do you know where we’re going.”

“Just do.”

That was hardly convincing. “You just do?”

“Yep.”

“Have you ever been to Haven before?”

“No.”

“So how do you know where we are? You used the traveler’s band to get here; you can’t retrace your steps.”

He sighed. “Haven is North of Haven-Over-Wall, so I have to head south to get there. We’re going South right now.”

Audrey looked around. “You’re sure?” She glanced at the sky, noting that even her sisters that stayed up well into the day were gone. She certainly had never been up at this hour. “I don’t know that this is south.”

“Well how would you know?”

“People navigate with stars,” She pointed out.

“So, what? I should just follow you?”

“It would be a better bet than following _you.”_ With that, she sat down, finally giving her aching knee a break.

He was several paces ahead of her before he noticed that she’d stopped. “We said we’d stop at the next village for rest. The last sign we passed said Almost was only a couple miles away.”

The words _I can’t_ were on her tongue, but she held them in. “No.”

“We have to—”

“ _You_ have to,” She corrected. “I don’t have to do anything, and I’m not going to.”

He turned around, reluctance in every line of his body. “I thought you wanted the ring.”

“There are other ways to get a traveler’s band,” She lied. Her memory was scattered but she was sure those bands were rare; it was unlikely she’d find another, and certainly not one that someone was offering to give to her.

After long moment, something crossed Nathan’s face, an expression so fleeting she couldn’t have named it, but it softened him, made him both younger and kinder than she’d yet seen. “Why don’t you wait here. I’ll bring back food.”

She nodded. “We can cover more ground tonight; I’ll feel better then.”

He didn’t look enthusiastic about that plan, but it was better than nothing. Nodding, he checked the knife in his boot and turned to go, glancing over his shoulder.

“I’ll be back soon.” That he looked worried was sweet, but unnecessary. It was a forest; how dangerous could it be?

* * *

_The Wandering Witch_

Runes were useful things, even if their particular brand of magic had fallen out of favor in recent years. Mara liked to be fashionable—a certain amount of style was essential to her work—but that should never be an excuse to dismiss something useful.

Mara tossed her runes into the air for the fifth time in half an hour. “Should I continue west?”

They fell on an unambiguous ‘no’ despite the fact that they’d said no to traveling north, south, and east, and had also informed her that the star was not in this village.

“Well what do you want me to do then?” She asked the carved bones in her hand, shaking them against each other as if that might wake up their ability to guide her. 

“Are you lost, madam?”

She turned, eyeing the lanky teenager with a mop of too-blond hair.

“My mother is the innkeeper at the Black Spot, just outside of Almost,” He continued. “It’s a fine place to rest yourself before you continue your journey.”

Mara opened her hand, ready to store the runes in the pouch at her hip before he asked why she needed to consult them, and she saw that they had fallen in a clear ‘yes’. She was meant to go with this boy.

Swallowing the sharp criticism she’d been planning for him, Mara twisted her lips into her sweetest smile. “That sounds lovely; take me there, please.”

The boy beamed. “It’s just over here, outside the village. Mother always said no one wanted to go into a town proper when they travel; they’d just as soon avoid crowded roads. That’s why it’s not in the square, even though it’s nice enough that it could be.”

The knife Mara had in her pocket was for people; beautifully carved from steel, sharpened to a razor edge, and as small as a pen. She ran her fingers over it, imagining the flick of her wrist that would put it through the lad’s eye, killing him instantly. She’d never liked chatter, unless it was her own.

For the star, she had a knife made of crystal, more ancient than Mara herself was, tucked safely into her bag. It was not for the fouled blood of humans. Mara didn’t even want sunlight touching that blade until it was raised over her head, ready to pierce the star’s chest and take its magic.

 _My magic,_ Mara thought with a smile, for it would be hers once she’d removed the star’s heart. _Half of it, at least,_ She amended, with only a little regret.

Half would have to go to her father, despite the fact that all the effort of retrieving it had been hers, and that without her he never would have gotten the last several stars.

 _Without him you might not have gotten Lucy._ She flinched, hating that she remembered the name. She never wanted to remember them, but somehow each was etched into her, like she’d taken the crystal blade to her own skin. _Lucy, Sarah, Evalyn, Veronica_

Abruptly, Mara tuned her attention back into the boy, finding his chatter much easier to bear than the litany of names.

“Do you like stew? My mam makes the best stew, you’ll have to try it—”

Her fingers itched for the knife again, but she resisted the urge. She started mapping out various plans for when she arrived at the inn. Perhaps the star was waiting for her there, or she would arrive there soon.

The easiest option would be to kill everyone and wait for her, but she was supposed to be keeping a low profile. Her task would get much harder if she had a price on her head. But then, she would only have a price on her head if she failed to get the star, which she didn’t plan on doing.

She kept massacre on the table, and moved on to other options which might allow her to quietly collect the star and be on her way. It should be easy; the star was new and trusting—they always were at the beginning—and Mara had advantages that ordinary humans wouldn’t. So long as it hadn’t already met another person, it would be fine.

Mara had learned the last time that the star mustn’t have allies. Allies gave it hope, and hope made them think they were free. Really, what Mara was doing was a mercy. Haven was a cold, cruel place that craved star magic just as much as Mara did. The star would never be able to know peace in this world. Killing it before it had to learn that everyone here would kill it for power, beauty, and immortality was kind.

It was the only kindness Mara had to offer. 

With all the boy’s prattle, Mara had started to expect something much grander than the little place turned out to be. It was cozily situated on a crossroads and smoke wisped out of the chimney, but inside it was empty aside from the boy’s mother, a cross-eyed woman with a gratingly cheerful smile.

“Tomos!” The woman said. “What do we have here?”

“Found the lady wandering on the road, thought she could use some rest before she continued on her way.”

The affected little flourish of gallantry the boy added to his words was a nice touch, a woman more susceptible to flattery than Mara would have been delighted. As it was, Mara’s mood was rapidly souring. The star was clearly not here, which meant that Mara would have to wait for it, and that meant more time in these people’s smothering company.

“Will you be needing a room, milady?” The woman asked. “Or just here for a meal?”

“A drink,” Mara said. “Something… Strong.”

The innkeeper smiled and went behind the bar to poor something out of a suspiciously unmarked bottle.

She thought back to her plans, her ways of getting the star so that she could return with it to her father’s palace. How much easier it would be to set a trap in an empty building. An inn was a good place for such a trap, and taking this one would be so much simpler than setting up a grand illusion of a new one.

Carefully, she pulled her runes from her pocket. _Is the star on the way to this inn?_

The runes fell neatly into her palm. No.

Mara grimaced, biting on her tongue to keep from voicing her disappointment aloud. _Is someone who can lead me to the star on the way to this inn?_

Yes.

Finally, something to smile about. In that case, it would certainly be easier to set this inn as her trap. A star wouldn’t be fooled by illusions for long, if at all, but an ordinary human? They were so easily taken in by beauty and flash. They didn’t question, especially not if it was someone they believed was meant to serve them.

The innkeeper brought the glass of liquor over to Mara’s table. “We get that from my sister in the village and it’s the best in all the kingdom, I’d bet my life on it.”

“Would you?” Mara said, her smile slow and smooth. How simple humans were, and how worthless this one’s must be if she would bet it on the quality of a drink. But those terms were agreeable to Mara; if the woman’s words held true, she would spare her and sacrifice more magic to create a grander illusion. If not, Mara would take this inn.

She took a cautious sip, taking a moment to smell it and examine flavors. It was the sort of dark liquor that was common in these areas, made from some kind of tree sap.

Common was the correct word for it, and moreover it was watered down. The woman had not met her end of the bargain, and Mara would hold her to it.

The knife was out of her pocket and in the woman’s neck in a flash. Mara had flipped the table in her haste, spilling the drink across the floor to mix with the blood.

Hearing the commotion, the boy came running back into the tavern and his eyes went wide as he took in his mother’s body on the floor. He made a small, choked off scream and ran at Mara, but he was a skinny boy, hardly more than fourteen or so, and unarmed.

He had joined his mother in short order.

Mara looked around the inn. She’d done minimal damage, but the bloodstains would be a giveaway and the bodies would be a hassle to move. She was low on power, practically starving for it, but she dredged some of it up, just enough to cast an illusion over the inn to tidy it up and make it a bit more inviting, and then one for her own appearance just in case. The star wouldn’t be fooled for long, but she didn’t need to be.

As unsavory as raiding a dead woman’s wardrobe was, Mara knew her gown was a bit too rich to be believable as an innkeeper’s. Stark blacks and bright whites—Mara’s favorite colors—were costly and uncommon outside of castles. She stored her dress carefully in her bag and pulled out what must have been the innkeeper’s best dress. It was soft wool, lovingly handstitched, and Mara wished she had the time to take it in at the hips to make it fit her better.

No matter. The star would be here soon, and she would be able to change back into her colors and bring the star back to the black palace. Soon, these petty illusions wouldn’t pain her. Soon power as bright as starlight would be flooding through her veins once more

* * *

_The Lightning Pirate_

Duke no longer cared about being lost. He had something much better than destinations on his mind. In any case, his cargo would keep for a little while longer, and if he was a touch late, there was no man in any industry who wouldn’t accept a little lightning as consolation.

All magic came from one of two sources: the sky and the ground. The most powerful of all was the magic that came from the stars, but that held no interest for Duke. He was in the business of acquisitions and deliveries mostly, but sometimes, very occasionally, he was in just the right place to harness what was often considered the next best thing.

The wind ripped through his hair, pulling it out of the leather strap he kept it contained in, and rain plastered it against his forehead, obstructing his view.

It didn’t matter. Duke knew his ship so well that he didn’t need to see in order to pull the rope that would swing her aside, following the sharp crackle of a budding storm. They would sail right into it he would collect the prize. 

Raw, wild lightning could be a power source, a defense, or just a very shocking way to greet an enemy, and Duke prided himself on being the best illicit dealer of it. It was rare stuff because of how difficult it was to harvest. Regulations that King Maximalion had put in place made it damn near impossible to get a license to deal in it, and Duke wasn’t one for impossible fights. Instead, he’d rigged out his ship to collect it as best he could, and he’d gone into the fray without asking permission, dealing on the side and never staying in one port long enough to draw attention.

That suited him well, because he would so much rather be in the open sky where he could feel the hairs on his arms were standing up when lightning was near.

Just like they were now.

He released the lightning net, yanking on a rope and securing it in place before stationing himself so that he could capture it safely in the cartridge.

Well, ‘safe’ was relative. The net smoked when the first band of lightning hit it and Duke could smell something he didn’t quite trust, but he ignored it. A storm this big would make him rich enough that maybe he could outrun his father’s words, outrun the memory of the fallen star.

The net flared to life, electricity running down it, and Duke held fast, ignoring the rain, the wind, the scream of power as the lightning filtered into the cartridge.

He sealed it off, feeling the faint vibration through the enchanted leather and metal. He closed his eyes, savoring the storm on his skin and the power in his hands. Moments like this, he felt like he could outrun destiny itself.

* * *

_The Man Without Feelings_

Nathan would have much rather been annoyed with Audrey. Annoyance was an uncomplicated emotion. Certainly it was easier to justify than sympathy, which is all he could really muster when he thought of Audrey.

She’d been dropped, amnestic and alone in a world she wasn’t a part of and didn’t belong in, as far away from her home as it was possible to be. Even if she hadn’t been injured, even if she wasn’t being dragged along by a virtual stranger, it would be miserable, and Audrey had those miseries piled on as well.

He didn’t want to feel bad, but he did. He knew that some of this was his fault. He’d run into her and injured her leg. He’d been dragging her behind him all day. If it wasn’t for him, she might never have left that crater, and maybe that would have been boring, but it would have been less terrible than his quest was turning out to be.

 _You could have promised something simple,_ He thought. _Why did it have to be a star? More importantly, why did the star have to be a person?_

He had been hoping for an inanimate piece of rock, something vaguely gem-like that could be fashioned into a ring even nicer than the traveler’s band he’d almost given to Jordan. Instead, he had an irritable person following him around and pestering him with questions and conversation.

He’d hated to leave her behind in the clearing, but he didn’t mind the silence as he walked through the forest. Even in another world, a forest was a forest, and Nathan liked trees. He liked the way they were orderly and wild at the same time, liked the sound of wind in branches and the way they smelled. The smell in Haven was different, but Nathan liked it. It reminded him of the way the air smelled just before a thunderstorm.

 _Is that magic?_ Nathan wondered. He also wondered if other people could smell it. Ever since his ability to feel had given up completely, his other senses—scent especially—had attempted to pick up the slack.

It wasn’t especially useful, except on the rare occasions he noticed the smell of his blood before his eyes found the injury; mostly it was just one more thing that made him different in his world

Would he still be different here? He was from this world, and walking through it he did feel more settled than he had in Haven-Over-Wall, but that might have been the effect of walking alone in the woods.

Ahead of him, the trees were thinning and the path he was following was becoming less path and more road. He emerged into the muted light and looked up at the sky, taking a cautious sniff.

Rain for sure, but when had that happened? When he’d been speaking with Audrey the sky had been clear, the woods dappled with gray sunlight.

The sharp tang of magic was still there, but now that the clouds were low and thick across the sky, Nathan wondered if maybe it was just the smell of lightning. He picked up his pace, wondering if he could make it to Almost—the village was apparently only a mile away now—before the storm hit.

He thought of Audrey, leaning against that tree, exhausted and in pain, and considered turning back. If it was going to rain, he wouldn’t want to just leave her there.

But then again, if it was going to rain, he didn’t want to be without supplies, and his impromptu departure from Haven-Over-Wall had left them with nothing. Food and shelter had to be a priority, and he wouldn’t be able to get those if he returned to Audrey and tried to drag her to Almost with him.

So, with a quick glance over his shoulder, he continued down the road.

The wind had really started to pick up after a while, so much so that even with his unusually sensitive hearing, he hardly noticed the hoofbeats at first. By the time he realized what the sound meant, he didn’t have time to dive off the road and hide.

“Name yourself!” The man demanded. His hand was on his sword, but he didn’t draw it.

Deciding it was wisest not to reveal that he was from another word, Nathan simply said, “Nathan.”

The man’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Really?”

“Yes?”

The hand on his sword shifted, and Nathan wondered how fast he could get to the knife in his boot, and if it would do any good against him. Though not quite as tall as Nathan, he was broader, and he moved with the confidence of someone who knew they would win a fight if one happened to be started.

After a long moment, the man’s grip relaxed. “What are you doing on this road?”

“Looking for food and shelter,” He said. “There’s an inn not far from here.”

The man nodded, and his horse stomped a hoof anxiously, tossing its head towards the sky as if trying to remind them of the coming storm.

“So there is,” The man said. “The Black Spot. Should be just near the crossroads, if my mapmaker is worth his price.”

The horse stamped again, and the man eyed the clouds. “I can take you as far as the inn,” The man said. “I’ll want information in return.”

That could come to be a problem, but Nathan wasn’t thinking about the future or the consequences; he was thinking about stars and storms and shelter.

Climbing clumsily onto the horse behind the man, Nathan said. “I didn’t get your name, sir.”

“McHugh.” With that, he urged the horse into a gallop that would have drowned out any further attempts at conversation.


	4. In Which Our Heroes and Our Villains Meet In an Inn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading. This is a real challenge to work on so your feedback is greatly appreciated!

Though this is a tale studied in history courses, for it is vital to the understanding of how Haven became what it will become, it will have first been told to young scholars in front of hearth fires and by candlelight before they fall asleep. For it is, first and foremost, a tale of journeys and magic and defeating evil, and exactly long enough to put a child to sleep before a parent needs to remember how it ends.

As they get older and are forced to learn the names and dates involved, older children will scoff and leave the room, tired of the old tale and the fact that some schoolteacher has sucked the fun from it. They will, however, undoubtedly creep up to the door to listen for the part where the heroes _finally_ find themselves in a room with the villains. That first vital confrontation where our heroes’ mettle is tested, and their inner strength is discovered. Where they must somehow find a daring way to escape. Even the most cynical history student must soften just a little for that, and the storyteller will pretend not to hear their gasps of surprise as, for a moment, the joy of the tale is reborn from the subject of dreaded tests into the fairy tale of childhood. 

This is, as that child might say if they dared to enter the room and admit that they wanted to hear the tale again, where the story gets good.

* * *

_A Man Under A Spell_

Nathan was, for once, grateful for whatever had stolen his ability to feel. By the time he and Lord McHugh—Nathan was assuming he was a lord; certainly he wasn’t an average person—had arrived at the Black Spot Inn they were both sodden and goosebumps were standing stark on their skin.

A woman was waiting for them; she was older than Nathan, with a warm smile and clever eyes. “Goodness, look at all that rain. You both must be freezing. Come in!”

“Stable the horse,” McHugh said to Nathan, dismounting and tossing Nathan the reins. Nathan slid clumsily off the horse’s back, hitting the ground hard enough that it shook his vision. It didn’t occur to him to argue that McHugh should take care of his own horse. Clearly, the man outranked him, and it wasn’t much trouble anyway.

Sweat foamed on the horse’s flanks and steam rose from his damp hair in the cool air, so Nathan took his time, murmuring quietly to the horse. It was the most familiar anything had been since he’d crossed the wall, and it gave him a second to indulge in quiet homesickness.

“I did all this for a girl named Jordan,” He told the horse. “She’s beautiful, and she’s nicer to me than the rest of the town. She doesn’t think I’m a freak.”

Or at least Jordan had never called him a freak to his face, which was more than he could say for most of the rest of Haven-Over-Wall’s citizens.

“I wish the star hadn’t turned out to be a person, though,” He told the horse. “Would have been easier to come home with a diamond or something.”

Despite the hard run and what must have been a long day of travel before it, the horse didn’t dive into its food. Its eyes flicked around the whites showing around the liquid black irises, its ears stubbornly pricked up rather than relaxed.

“Something wrong?” Nathan asked, rubbing his neck. “What do you hear, boy?”

The horse, of course, didn’t tell him—not that anything would have surprised Nathan in this place where stars were people—but he kept tossing his head around.

After a while, Nathan decided he was just an especially anxious horse—a peculiar and not especially safe choice for a man like McHugh—and decided to go into the inn.

McHugh was sitting at the bar drinking and flirting with the innkeeper. As always when he entered a new space, Nathan smelled the air, noticing a faint, strange tang he disliked immediately. It was buried under layers of mead and stew and some kind of brewed thing that smelled enough like beer Nathan might have trusted it, but still he was on edge.

Unable to place the suspicious smell, he joined McHugh at the bar with an air of caution the other man—previously so tense and withdrawn—had seemed to have abandoned.

“Ah,” The innkeeper said with a smile that was just a little too broad for the circumstance, “The valet joins us at last. Welcome sir, what’s your poison?”

Her voice was strangely familiar, under the tang of a strange accent. It was low and rounded and sweet. He liked that voice, but he couldn’t place why he thought he’d heard it before.

“I, uh, don’t drink much,” Nathan said. It was not entirely true, but it would cover for the fact that he couldn’t name any of the strange bottles resting on the shelf behind the woman.

“Here,” She said, taking out a bottle. “My sister in the village makes this. It’s the finest in all the kingdom.”

Nathan took the full glass she handed him, sniffing cautiously. It smelled like a sunlit forest at midday, warm and sharp all at once. Suddenly, Nathan realized how thirsty and tired he was, which should have struck him as strange—he couldn’t feel it when he was those things—but in this peaceful, warm little inn nothing seemed strange. He drank deeply.

“So, gentlemen,” The woman said, “What brings you to my corner of the world?”

Something about the way she said ‘my’ was off, like she thought she owned the whole world, and not just this inn.

McHugh didn’t seem to notice. “I seek the fallen star. Whoever brings it back to the castle becomes the king of Haven.”

“You’re a prince?” Nathan asked.

The man looked at him like he was mad, and even the woman eyed him strangely. “There are no princes of Haven. I am a member of the king’s guard, a bearer of a black curse, and I am one of many tasked with retrieving the star. Whoever succeeds rules.”

Nathan had never been a very good student of history, or even much of a student in general, but that was like no succession system in the world. Whoever completed a task was the king?

“But what if the person who brings back the star doesn’t know how to run a country?” He asked, thinking of the myriad skills required for that kind of job.

McHugh glared at him. “I know how to run a county, and _I_ will return with the star.”

“Right,” Nathan said, not wanting to anger him any more than he was, but not entirely believing him either. How different could a king’s guard be than a sheriff? Nathan certainly wouldn’t trust his father to be king.

“Tell me, Sir,” The innkeeper said, her bright eyes following the conversation with lively interest as she refilled McHugh’s glass, “What is the nature of your black curse?”

For the first time since Nathan had seen him at the bar, McHugh tensed, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. “Why would you want to know?”

The smile warmed and she poured even more of the incredible drink into McHugh’s cup, and then Nathan’s. “I meant no offense; I was only curious. The king’s guard, touched by magic, it’s like something out of a fairy tale, isn’t it?”

McHugh relaxed again, and Nathan did too, taking a long drink that made him feel much vaguer than he had before. The room blurred around the edges, but it was sharply focused around the woman. She was, Nathan decided, very beautiful, even though he couldn’t have placed which of her features he found pleasing.

“Do you know where the star fell?” She asked McHugh.

“North,” McHugh said. “I’m on my way to it.”

The room refocused for Nathan, remembering that Audrey was North, sitting in a clearing, probably freezing cold while Nathan got drunk in an inn with strangers. He glanced at his glass. Was he drunk? How much had he had? Why did everything look so strange?

“What about you, traveler?” The woman asked. “What’s your quest?” Her voice was teasing, and that was when Nathan realized it sounded like Audrey’s, just a little. Just enough that it put his teeth on edge. It was hers but wrong.

“I…” Nathan wanted to tell her why he was here, where he was from, what his name was, what his father’s name was, what little information he had about his mother, but he stopped. Why would he tell her that? Her eyes were so beautiful, stunning, even, a bright blue that hovered close to being green, like a sunlit lake.

She had asked him a question. He wanted to answer.

He knew he shouldn’t give too many details. Some instinct that ran deeper than skin, that flowed through his blood, screamed that he must not mention Audrey. They would take her, and then he could never bring her to Jordan and—

_Jordan!_

“I’m on a journey to prove my love,” He said.

The innkeeper laughed like he’d said the funniest thing she’d ever heard, and McHugh joined in after a moment. “How precious.”

As they stopped laughing, Nathan had the keen sense that he was being cut out of the conversation. He didn’t mind, because he found that he was feeling strangely dazed and tired. He hadn’t meant to drink so much. He couldn’t even be sure how much he’d had to drink. Had the innkeeper refilled his glass twice? Three times?

McHugh and the innkeeper continued to laugh together. _Her laugh has an edge that could cut a man’s throat,_ Nathan thought, before realizing that it was a very odd thing to think about a kindly innkeeper who’d done nothing but help them and shelter them. 

She refilled his glass and Nathan brought it to his nose, taking in the smell again. Under it, he caught the same unpleasant tang that he’d smelled when he’d first walked in, underneath all the inviting scents of the inn.

It wasn’t until a while later, as Nathan finished his glass and slowly slumped forward, resting his head in his arms on the bar, that he realized it was the smell of blood, and by then, he no longer understood why that was a bad thing.

* * *

_The False Innkeeper_

There was no feeling more potent than that of a plan falling neatly into place. She’d had plenty of time to ready the inn and adopt her disguise, so there was no reason it should have failed, but still when the flies walked into her web, Mara couldn’t help feeling pleased.

The one who held her interest was a tall man who walked with the confidence of someone who had both started and finished many fights during his life. He was seeking the star, and with any luck could lead her right to it. Despite his self-aggrandizing words about being a king’s guard, he was very easily bewitched; at this rate he would give her a ride to the star and hold it down while she cut its heart out.

The valet was a surprise, but not a completely unwelcome one. He was tall and stupid, bumbling and even more shockingly entranceable than the guard. It was almost cute.

The only thing about him that had given her pause was his eyes. They were so very blue, and it made her wonder where she’d seen blue eyes like those before.

She tried to wave it off; she had been alive a very long time and some things were bound to reappear or look familiar. Unfortunately, the feeling refused to be entirely dismissed, and it curdled her stomach, spoiling what ought to have felt like a victory as both men leaned eagerly into her spell. 

“Who else seeks the star?” Mara asked the guard, McHugh.

He gave her what someone must, at some point, have told him was a winning smile. “Everyone. All the best of the king’s guard go in search of the star. I shall find her first.”

“Indeed you shall,” She said. “How do you know so precisely where she is?” Now that he was deeply bewitched, she didn’t have to dance around her point; he would answer direct questions and not wonder why she’d asked.

He tilted his head, looking at her strangely. “I don’t.”

That was a surprise. “Pardon?”

“I don’t know where the star is precisely. I go North in the direction she fell and hope to meet her on the road or find her in the crater.”

Mara’s hands curled into fists, hidden in the skirts of the dress she’d stolen from the innkeeper. “Really?”

McHugh nodded. “I know of no other way to find her.”

Of course he didn’t. The man, like all men who would happily bathe in black magic for a chance at power, was an idiot.

Her runes had been so specific; someone who knew the location of the star was supposed to arrive at this inn, and yet she was stuck with two starless buffoons.

“You asked, my lady,” McHugh said, “What my curse was. I fear I was rude in the answer; I am pursued by many and didn’t want to put myself at risk.”

“Of course,” Mara said through gritted teeth, hardly paying attention while she tried to account for the mistake her runes had made.

“It is that I cannot be in a fight which doesn’t end in death. Anyone who raises blade or fists against me must either die or kill me.”

That was both interesting and useful, so Mara turned her full gaze on him, keeping the smile as wide and beautiful as her illusion disguise would allow. “Then I shall be sure not to raise a blade against you.”

The servant was asleep on the bar now, murmuring something to a woman named Audrey, which grated against Mara’s fragile patience. His idiotic, hopelessly lovelorn quest was just a little familiar and she hated herself for remembering. She wondered if she would ever reach a century where she didn’t remember the days when she’d had a blue-eyed suitor of her own.

Some people might have softened a little towards the bumbling servant with that comparison, but not Mara. This was something she wanted buried, wanted gone.

She had made her choice; regrets were pointless.

To make herself feel better, she resolved to kill the servant and pick his eyes out of his head so that they would stop bothering her. She wanted to chalk their familiarity up to her own traitorously sentimental heart, but she remembered William’s icy eyes too well. These were not quite the same. Not close enough, in any case, that she could really believe this was an unbidden sting of nostalgia.

No, she had seen eyes like those somewhere, but she couldn’t exactly place them and that worried her. Regardless, as soon as her task was done, she could kill him, and all would be well again.

“Do you have a room for the night? My companion can sleep it off in the stables, but I would like a bed to sleep in.” He gave her a look, the one men always thought was so subtle, but which clearly meant ‘and I’d like you to share it with me’.

The smile he saw was entirely an illusion, a waste of valuable magic but Mara could not find it in herself to offer him even the scraps of authenticity she’d been throwing his way for most of the night.

“But don’t you want to continue your quest?”

“I have had too much to drink, and I’m tired. I’ll rest here for tonight.” His eyes were still trying to communicate some incompetent seduction. Mara ignored it.

Mara frowned a little. “Aren’t you concerned about the rest of the Guard? Surely they’re seeking the star too? Isn’t it better to find her as soon as possible?” Her anger and eagerness pressed through her magic and she tried to rein them in.

Her spell wavered; she saw clarity in his eyes for a moment. He’d realized she was acting odd. “I need not rush yet. My companions will be behind me on the road; I took the shorter forest path, and no one knows exactly where she is.”

“That’s the problem,” Mara hissed. Turning her back on him, she pulled her runes out of her pocket, shaking them vigorously.

_Is someone coming who can lead me to the star?_

No.

She wanted to scream in frustration. Runes were useful, but terribly literal, and they were limited to yes or no questions. Phrasing was everything and she was expending so much magic hiding the bodies and her appearance that she couldn’t think well enough to ask the right question.

Mara shook the bones, trying to come up with another question. She stopped suddenly, realizing her mistake.

No one was coming to lead her to the star because he was already here. With that, she turned her attention to the idiot slumped against her bar as a slow smile—the first real one she’d offered since they had arrived in her inn—spread over her face.

* * *

_The Sought-After Star_

Nathan had been gone for a while before Audrey stood up and decided to wander the woods a little. She held onto branches and favored her bad leg heavily, but she was only going to have a ground-bound adventure once, so she ought to make the best of it. Her effort was rewarded when she stumbled on a small, vaguely cave-shaped rock formation, next to a pool. She moved closer, balancing carefully. The water was deep and still enough that she could get a general idea of what she looked like. She’d never had an appearance aside from her celestial one, and couldn’t help being rather pleased with the results.

She did not know exactly what the standards were for such things in this world, but she decided that she must be very pretty—after all, who didn’t think stars were lovely?—and she smiled at her reflection. The smile improved upon the reflection and she decided that, though she would not miss the many inconveniences of this form, she would miss being able to make expressions to fit her moods. She might even miss having moods.

Leaving the pond, she stood up and tried to wander a little further, but her leg ached, and she was tired from hours of trailing after Nathan. Explorations abandoned, she decided to hobble back to the tree where he’d left her in hopes that he did as promised and returned with food. 

Audrey was still enjoying the rest for her aching leg when it started to rain. She’d never been rained on before, but the novelty wore off quickly. She’d never been cold before either, and wasn’t enjoying it any more than she had enjoyed most of the sensations this new world had offered.

She tucked herself further back into the tree and finally managed to sleep, which was nothing like sleeping had been when she was a star, not that she could exactly describe what it _had_ been like to sleep as a star. That, like the rest of her memories, was fragmented and dreamlike.

Her dreams, too, were disjointed and confused, tangled together with things she’d wanted to know about her new world. As a star, she had looked down on Haven, she was sure of it. She must have observed some of this, must know something about this place, her dreams tried to reveal those things, but it blurred and bled together.

A woman with the same face Audrey had seen reflected in the pool, but smoother, darker hair. Another woman, tall and gracefully lean, wrapped in a soft cloak, held her hand. They were running together, though Audrey couldn’t be sure who or what was pursuing them. They were in danger, that much was clear.

_Stars are not safe in Haven. They carry power that many envy and want to keep for themselves._

The dark-haired woman, the one who Audrey knew, instinctively, was the last star to have fallen was looking over her shoulder, and the scene shifted. Audrey was looking at a creature made of shadows shaped like a man that chased them. 

The other woman tugged on the star’s arm, but they were moving too slow. Audrey wanted to scream that she could help them, that she would, but no sound came from her mouth and she was stuck. She was sewn into the tapestry of the sky, too far away to do anything but watch.

For a second, Audrey saw her own pale hair instead of the last star’s, and the woman was Nathan, pulling her away from the shadow creature, and then Audrey jerked awake.

Her heart was pounding horribly, and her chest ached with the effort of breathing, but she was standing, barely flinching at the pain in her knee. Something was wrong. Something had happened.

_I need to find Nathan._

It was dark, and the rain was falling, barely hindered by the thick branches overhead, but Audrey didn’t—couldn’t—let it slow her down. It occurred to her, for the first time, that she was lucky that it was Nathan who’d found her. Despite his many flaws, he had not intentionally hurt her, and she believed that he would not.

The same, clearly, could not be said for whatever creature had found her fallen sister. Nathan wasn’t much, but the idea of trying to brave this world alone was unfathomable, even if it hadn’t meant leaving him to die.

As Audrey ran, she imagined that she could hear the whispers of her sisters over the rain, imagined their encouragement, imagined them offering warnings and wisdom as she tore down the rough path until it widened into a neat road. She emerged from the forest and saw lights in the distance. It was rougher going now, the road was muddy and slick under her still-unfamiliar feet, and the rain was no longer hindered by thick foliage, and fell torrentially around her. Even if she hadn’t believed with every part of her being that something terrible was about to happen to Nathan, she would have been sprinting for any shelter she could find. As it was, she would have given anything to be able to fly.

Eventually, she couldn’t keep running, but walking was more agonizing. The rain kept falling, rushing over her eyes and leaking into her skin; running was painful and exhausting but at least it kept her warm.

Lightning struck in the field near her, and Audrey flinched, pushing even harder towards the faint lights ahead. The air crackled and shook with thunder that echoed behind her heart. How did people live down here? How could they bear to be so _close_ to all of this?

Finally, she found herself near the lights she’d barely glimpsed from the road, just when she thought her breath would run out and she would drown in the endless muddy road, she reached the rough stone steps of an inn. It was tempted to burst in, just to remind herself what dry felt like, but at the last moment, she remembered caution and went to the window instead.

The scene she came upon was horrible. The inn was streaked in blood, two bodies lay near table in the corner, a woman and a boy, both with gaping wounds on their necks.

Audrey wished she’d had time to retch, but her eyes slid past the corpses to the bar, where a woman was holding a small but deadly sharp knife over Nathan.

She had never screamed before. She didn’t then. The sound was jagged in her throat, caught there and held in through willpower she hadn’t known she possessed. Breathing hard, Audrey slid the window open, praying she would be able to hear what was happening over the storm.

“Tell me where she is,” The woman with the knife demanded.

Nathan shook his head, he was breathing oddly, too shallow, he seemed barely awake and confused. “I can’t… I won’t.”

“Don’t refuse me,” The witch said. “I will give you one last chance to save your pitiful life. Where is my star?”

Nathan writhed on the bar but didn’t manage to free himself. “No. I won’t…”

Audrey didn’t need to see more. She didn’t know how hard it was to resist whatever magic was over this horrible place, but she couldn’t let him die without trying to help.

She ran for the door and this time, she didn’t stop before bursting into the room. “NATHAN!”

He turned his head, and the strangest expression crossed his face, as if clouds were clearing for him, as if something finally made sense. He looked at the bodies like he was just seeing them. Finally, he met her eyes. “Run.”

It was not bravery that kept her in place. In fact, she might have called it weakness, because just that word made her lungs burn and her leg ache like she was still on that damnable road. Even if she’d wanted to, she could not have run far or run fast.

The woman didn’t bring her knife down. She stared back at Audrey, and she smiled.

It was a twisted smile, a dark mockery of the expression one might make if their friend told a good joke. Audrey flinched away from it as her heart went cold. That was _her_ smile. It was _her_ face. In fact, apart from the woman’s hair, which was longer and a little darker, the woman was identical to Audrey in every possible way.

“What—”

“Hello,” She said, in a voice that was smooth and cool, like silk wrapped around a sword. “Welcome to my inn. Will you be staying long?”

“This isn’t your inn,” Audrey said stupidly. She felt the magic on the place fading. It had been thick with spells, and as they cleared, Audrey realized with horror what was happening.

This was a trap for Nathan, and by extension for her. This creature who wore a star’s face would have killed him to get to her.

Nathan, apparently, realized the same thing. He rolled out from under her, pulling away at the last second while she clawed at his face.

He flailed, staggering away, all limbs and no coordination as he tried to get closer to Audrey. She stepped towards him, closing some of the distance, but he was still caught in the center of the room when the witch raised her hands.

“If you stand between me and my star, you’ll feel agony terrible and unending!” Audrey felt magic rush out of her, felt the power of it surge towards Nathan.

He flinched but stopped. Looked up. Glanced at Audrey. Shrugged. He was completely unaffected.

The man at the bar stirred, looking up. His eyes were round, his mouth agape as he looked at Nathan, tilting his head and studying him as if he was trying to remember someone’s name after meeting them again after many years.

In the meantime, the witch raised her hands again, and Audrey finally found the strength to push herself forward. She was too caught up in getting to Nathan to even hear what she was saying, what horrible spell she was casting.

Audrey threw herself in front of him and felt the magic echo around her like cool water. _Stars are immune to magic,_ She thought, the first clear thought she’d had since opening the door to this cursed place.

“Look at that,” The witch said. “You already found your protector for this world. How sweet. Unfortunately, it won’t work out; I’d cut your losses.”

“Leave us alone!” Audrey shouted.

The witch laughed. “Oh, dear. You must be confused. I can’t do that. See, I know what you are, and I need what you have.”

“I don’t have anything!” She shouted.

“Well that’s where you’re wrong. You have everything. Freshly fallen power. It’s a hard thing to come by, and trust me, I won’t be the only one looking. No matter where you are in Haven, trouble will find you, just like it found Lucy before you.”

Behind the witch, the man at the bar was slowly getting to his feet. He drew a long, sharp knife out of his boot and moved closer to the witch. He was creeping up behind her, knife held up and ready for the kill.

“And you’re trouble, I suppose?” Audrey snapped, her voice loud and a little too high with fear. She had to keep the witch’s attention though, just for long enough that the man could plunge his dagger into her back. He was so close, only steps away.

The witch’s smile widened. “I’m just one of hundreds that would seek you. This man behind me is on a quest too.” With that, she turned around, and—rather than waste time with incantations—let fire leak from her hands and onto the ground.

Smoke curdled the air and the man screamed as the fire found his legs, biting up his clothes until he was forced to throw himself to the ground.

The ground was burning too, Audrey saw. Fire crept closer to her, licking near her skirt and forcing her to cling to Nathan as they backed away until they were pressed against the far wall.

The man was screaming. The fire roared, deafening. At her back the wall was solid and rough and there was no way through it. They were trapped. Nathan was trying to stamp out the fire, but it moved ever closer while the witch kept right on laughing.

“This is really too bad,” She said. “It all works so much better when you’re glowing and in love, but I don’t mind. I get to skip the nauseating sentiment and get right to the fun part.” The fire parted around her as she crossed the floor with steps that were strangely graceful, almost like a dance.

She was face to face with Audrey now. “I am Mara. I have taken dozens of stars over hundreds of years. You will not live long in this world, so give up now and find a peaceful, painless end.”

Audrey glared at the face that was too much like her own, hating the way that scowl twisted its features. She raised her hands up and shoved the witch back. “No.” 

The witch’s face contorted with rage. “No? You think you can—”

“Nathan, the ring,” Audrey hissed.

He stared back at her, a stupid look on his face. The rusted gears in his brain turned slowly until they finally clicked into place and he reached into his pocket, pulling out the ring and holding it out to her.

Audrey took it in her hand and closed her fist around it. She was suddenly very sick of adventure, and the look of blood on a rough wooden floor. She was sick of noise and anger and thoughts and pain.

“Think of home,” She told Nathan, and she did the same.

She thought about the dance she should never have messed up, thought about her sisters who were still in the sky, and tried very hard not to think of Lucy, who had fallen and died for it.

All she wanted now was to be back in the dance, back in the sky where she would never have to feel anything again, where she wouldn’t have thoughts or limbs or a face someone could copy.

She didn’t want anything to do with it, so she thought of plain, dark emptiness, and she smiled as the world tilted around her. Her skin burned and she was hurtled through the air and up.

Up.

Up.

Away from the inn, the witch, the fire, the bodies.

* * *

_The Lightning Harvester_

Duke was having a good night. That probably should have been his first warning, but while he was capturing lightning, there wasn’t time for introspection or foreboding. It was all action, and that was exactly how Duke liked it.

A bolt of lightning sizzled past the port side, missing his nets and probably scorching some field far below. Duke tossed a little salute at the whatever poor sap had to work that land and praised the stars that he was tied to nothing except the ship, which protested beneath his boots as he ran across the deck to jerk the wheel and haul her even deeper into the storm.

As soon as he’d righted her, he turned his attention back to the nets, which were raised over the ship, drawn up by the power in the air. His hair stuck against his neck and he flicked water out of his eyes just in time to see one of the nets spark with energy. He grabbed a cartridge, braced himself, and held it against the net.

The lightning filtered down the net and into the cartridge, its power strong enough to shove Duke back, but he held firm, ignoring the electric tingle that ran up his arms. This was his sixth full cartridge, one of which sold for enough to keep him fed and clothed for a month. With six, he’d be able to stock up and finally— _finally—_ do the repairs he needed. It was enough to bring a smile to his face as he forced the lid onto the cartridge. If he wanted, he could take some time off from deliveries and put his attention back onto more personal matters that had been pushed to the backburner while he tried to afford his repairs.

He looked at the stack of crystal and copper cartridges, each buzzing faintly with the power they contained and smiled, ignoring the freezing rain that crashed around his eyes and soaked through his clothes. It was a good night.

_Maybe curses can be lifted._

Duke turned back to the wheel, ready to steer out of the storm before a licensed lightning collector showed up and demanded to see his credentials. Six was good luck, but for Duke—who had learned from a young age that he could not trust his luck—it was pushing it.

And luck, like destiny, had a habit of catching up with a man.

The second he’d started to steer away, he heard a scream. This wouldn’t have been so strange, not really. Some people were scared of storms or ships or any manner of things one might find in fields or forests this late at night. Except that Duke was aboard an airship, alone, and no one could possibly be within earshot.

No one, except the two sodden figures standing on the deck of his ship.

“What have you done?” The woman demanded of the man standing next to her, who looked just as hopelessly confused as Duke felt.

He shrugged, unable to muster a reply, while Duke watched them, speechless. He wasn’t used to being speechless, but then, he also wasn’t used to strangers appearing on his boat while it was in midair.

The man looked around, as if he might figure out how they’d gotten there if he knew where the hell they were, and he locked eyes with Duke. He raised one hand to point him out to the woman, but before he could get any words out, a rogue bolt of lightning struck the nets, racing down the enchanted cables and, without Duke there to capture it in a cartridge, struck the center of the deck right between them.

The interlopers were thrown back and Duke raced forward, finding them both unconscious, the woman against the railing and the man against the door that led to the hold. He stared at them, at a loss, until he gave up and shrugged.

“I was having such a good night,” He muttered as he started to drag the bodies inside. 


	5. In which a pirate meets his guiding star and a star meets her guide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've struggled with it a lot and in a lot of different ways, so if you like it, I'd really appreciate hearing from you. Regardless, thanks for reading and I hope you like it!

When one spends much time assembling puzzles, they often find that there are moments when pieces seem to fly together, when entire sections will be complete in the time it had previously taken to find only one or two matching pieces.

It is the same for storytellers and students. 

There will be a moment when the players in a story—whether that story be truth or fiction—slide into their places in exactly the way they ought to, and things finally make sense.

Sometimes, it is like this also when people meet one another. Some might call this destiny—that busy lady is credited with much which might actually belong to her sister, happenstance—that people meet and seem to know each other instantly. Or at least they meet and realize that they belong in the same story. Such is the case when at last the star, the ordinary man, and the pirate finally have the chance to exchange words. 

Perhaps this is the place where everything turned. The star finds an ally, the pirate finds a purpose, and Nathan Wuornos finds something he wouldn’t have even known to look for.

And all three of them find much more than they bargained for.

* * *

_Airborne Star_

Audrey was used to sleeping—nighttime stars sleep during the day so as not to encroach upon the sun’s territory—but waking up as a person was a new experience. She wasn’t certain if the waking up was what was disorienting, or if the lighting she had come in contact with had disoriented her. Possibly, it was the fact that the room she was in felt like it was moving.

Whatever the reason, Audrey was unsteady and confused when she got to her feet and found herself naked. She was not embarrassed, but she faintly remembered that humans were very fussy about that sort of thing, so she was pleased to find a neatly folded shirt on the bedside table. She moved carefully, still favoring her bad leg though apparently the rest had done it some good.

Audrey had not forgotten their encounter with the witch, which had solidified the warnings from her dream. Stars were not safe in Haven. She was not safe in Haven. Wherever she was, she had to be careful not to reveal what she was.

She moved slowly through what appeared to be some kind of ship. She wasn’t sure what to make of her captor, but she had to admit that he had a nice, if peculiar, style of decoration. The ship was cozy, all old, polished wood and brass, with pillows and blankets strewn over various surfaces. Every available corner held some kind of trunk, chest, or box, some of which were whirring mechanically, or making curiously lively sounds.

Audrey kept her distance for them and climbed up towards the deck, which was large and open. It was then that Audrey got a very clear idea of what exactly had happened the night before. She’d clung to a traveler’s band and thought of where she most wanted to be, and she’d told Nathan to do the same. But her home and her safety were quite a bit different than his, and they had ended up halfway in between.

In other words, they were on a ship, in midair.

“Good morning.”

She turned towards the voice and found a tall man sitting on a chair reading a book and sipping something out of a mug. He held an identical mug out to her. “Cream and two sugars.”

She looked at it dubiously as she took it.

“That’s how you take your coffee, right?”

Audrey frowned. “I have no idea.” She took a cautious sip and her frown deepened. She was hungry, but it was too sweet, and it coated her tongue strangely. “Eugh.”

The man shrugged, unphased. “Ah well, would have been cool.” He held out a hand. “Duke Crocker, boat captain and expert in rare goods acquisition and delivery.”

“Audrey.”

He waited expectantly for the rest of her name, but she didn’t give it, nor did she offer him a title. If he wanted information, he would have to give her some first.

“Where’s Nathan?”

He tilted his head. “Who?”

“The man I was with. Where is he?” 

The man shrugged. “I threw him overboard.”

Audrey thought of Nathan glaring at the witch, stubbornly protecting her even as he was about to die, and her heart lurched strangely. “What?”

She felt strange. It was pain, but not like the kind when she’d hurt her knee. No, this was new pain, and it melded easily into anger. Humans, if she remembered correctly, were rather easily killed by falling very long distances.

“You… you _killed_ him?” She took a long breath, letting the ice of her fury slide through her.

“Yep. And I’ll do the same to you unless you tell me what I need to know.”

Again, the image of Nathan facing down the witch’s knife, willing to die for her, flashed through her mind. “I’m not telling you anything.” She stuck her chin up and glared.

Apparently, Nathan was not the only one who could be stubborn.

He sighed. “I was worried about that. Look, sweetheart, people magically showing up on my boat is not how I make friends. Your pal lied to me, so I tossed him. If you want the same treatment, go ahead, keep lying.”

“I haven’t lied,” Audrey said.

“Ah, but you haven’t said anything,” He pointed out.

She couldn’t argue with that. “Why don’t we make a deal.”

A smile spread across his face. “You’re speaking my language. What do you want?”

“I’ll answer your questions if you answer mine.”

“And we only tell the truth?” He held out his hand for her to shake, far more amenable than the murderer she’d met last night.

She nodded and took his hand. “We only tell the truth.” Belatedly, she added. “Promise?”

A muscle in his jaw ticked. “I don’t see why that’s necessary.”

Audrey considered that. She wondered what he was hiding that he was sure she would find out. Suspicion crept up her spine.

“Fine,” She said. “No promises. We’ll just have to trust each other.”

Duke’s smile got wider, and Audrey struggled to decide whether she liked it or hated it. “I guess we will.”

“You first,” Audrey said generously. She wanted time to consider her questions.

“Where are you from?” He asked.

“Not nearby.”

He raised one eyebrow as if to say _Really?_

“You murdered my friend,” She said, “I can’t be too careful.”

An expression Audrey couldn’t interpret flicked across his face. Maybe guilt, which surprised her. Guilt certainly didn’t fit with the ruthless pirate image he was trying to create. “What’s your question?” He said, just a little too fast, not as casually as he’d said everything else; he wanted to change the topic.

Audrey leaned on her suspicion. “Why did you take care of me?”

“Excuse me?”

“When I woke up,” She said, “I was in a bed, wrapped in blankets. You gave me a shirt. Why take care of me and kill Nathan?”

He sighed. “You… um, well you hadn’t lied to me, so it wasn’t necessary.”

She pretended to believe that answer, which had come out halting and strange, as if he were fighting something to say it. “Your turn.”

“Are you from Haven?”

“No.” She smiled. “Did you kill Nathan?”

He opened his mouth, raised his finger into an accusing point and then dropped it, pressed his lips together into a reluctant smile. “No, I did not.”

Audrey beamed, proud of herself. For someone who was new to conversation and expressions, she had gotten that much faster than she’d been expecting to.

“Why did you lie about it?” She asked.

“It’s not your turn,” He pointed out, but then shrugged. “I needed some information from you.”

“Lying gets you information?”

He gave her a good-humored glare. “Usually.”

Audrey found herself reluctantly warming to him. “I believe I owe you a question.”

“Where are you going? Your… friend said that you were travelling.”

Audrey weighed her options and considered lying, but she held to her promise even though she didn’t feel the compulsion to. “Haven-Over-Wall.”

“Is that where you’re from?”

“It’s where Nathan is from.”

“That explains his name.”

“I don’t understand,” Audrey asked. “Why wouldn’t that be his name?”

Duke tilted his head. “Better question; why don’t you know that?”

“Excuse me?”

“Everyone from everywhere knows that no one in Haven can have that name. So you’re really a long way from home, aren’t you?” He asked.

Audrey shook her head, starting to feel a little frantic. “No, I’m from… um, North of—”

“Audrey,” He said, “Are you the star?”

Audrey’s jaw fell open. It had been a surprising and confusing couple of days, but this might have been the largest surprise yet. “I’m…”

“It was just Starfall,” He said. “You’re from very far away, and you ask to make promises casually, something no one would do if they actually had to keep them.”

Audrey flushed, stared at the deck of his boat, and then finally nodded. “Yes. I’m the star.” She braced herself for whatever he would do next. Suddenly she was aware of her vulnerability in nothing but his shirt, on the open deck.

He had told her he dealt in rare goods. Was there any good in Haven rarer and more valuable than the heart of a star?

“Well then, Audrey,” Duke said, standing with a broad smile as he swept her a courtly bow, “I am deeply in your debt. You have been my guide on many an adventure and it will be my duty and my honor to see you to your destination.” With a slight flourish, he took her hand and kissed it.

Audrey’s cheeks heated and her smile widened. The hand he held sparkled faintly in the morning sun. Finally, she was being treated the way a star deserved. 

* * *

_The Pirate’s Captive_

Nathan sighed and rolled over on what he was sure was a very uncomfortable cot. It was crammed into the corner of what was obviously meant to be a cell but had been overtaken by trunks and boxes which must have held all manner of illegal goods.

Duke Crocker, boat captain and expert in rare goods acquisition and delivery had not returned to the cell in what must have been hours, and he had not told him anything about what had happened to Audrey. Crocker had warned him against opening the boxes, but Nathan was growing anxious. His experience with the witch was hazy in his mind, but he remembered that she had wanted to kill Audrey. Nathan had dragged Audrey into all of this, _he_ had nearly gotten her killed, and now they were being held captive on a flying pirate ship.

Nathan was, officially, very tired of magic.

He remembered when his life had been simple, when life was no more complicated than wondering if the weather would hold through the harvest, or whether the rumors about Jordan and the smith from two towns over were true. Now his world was magic and witches and stars and pirates.

And yet he thought about the night before, when he’d had the traveler’s band in his fist and Audrey had told him to think of home. He’d thought of Haven-Over-Wall, but his thoughts had stumbled, remembering the way people whispered and stared at him. He’d remembered his father’s ambivalence, and the way the streets were never quite comfortable.

Was that really home? Like it or not, he was from Haven, and he’d only just begun to see it. He wondered if maybe that was why, when Audrey had been thinking of her home in the sky, they had ended up exactly where they were, but a little higher up. He hadn’t truly wanted to go, not yet, anyway.

Not when he’d had her hand in his, wrapped around the traveler’s band. Had it been his imagination? He wondered. Some madness from the terror of the moment? He couldn’t be right. It was impossible. And yet…

“Nathan?” It was as though she’d been summoned by his thoughts.

He jumped up and ran to the bars. “Audrey! Are you alright? If he hurt you—”

“You’ll what?” Crocker’s voice chimed in good-naturedly. “I haven’t decided not to throw you overboard yet.”

Audrey was rolling her eyes as she came into view, but she smiled at Nathan. His mouth went a little dry when he saw her. She’d changed out of the filmy silver dress she’d been wearing when he found her, and into a pair of leggings and a too-long white shirt she’d cinched in with a belt. It was certainly more practical for their current situation, but Nathan had never seen anyone dressed like that in his life.

While he was trying to process, Crocker was unlocking the cell. “So, I hear you need to get to the wall.”

Nathan eyed him suspiciously. “Yes.”

“I can get you there,” He said. “But since you’re not paying, I’ll need to make some stops first. Audrey told me you weren’t in any rush.”

Audrey smiled brightly in response to Nathan’s flat glare. “Did she.”

Ignoring him, Crocker went on. “I may need some help with things from time to time, but for the most part, you’ll be on a free tour of Haven on the best and safest—”

The ship lurched, hurling Nathan forward into the cell bars. He grimaced despite the lack of pain. It was the principal of the thing.

“Well, mostly,” Crocker said with a shrug. “Anyway, sorry about the mix up with the brig.”

“Mix up?” Nathan said. Crocker throwing him in a cell while he was unconscious hardly seemed like an accident.

Again, Crocker ignored him completely. He swung the door open to let Nathan out, glancing over the boxes in the trunk. “You didn’t open any of them, did you?” He sounded more curious than worried.

Nathan shook his head. “No.”

For a second, he looked almost disappointed. “That’s for the best. No one from Over-Wall could handle this stuff.”

“What’s in them?” Nathan asked, then kicked himself for his curiosity. Despite how charmed Audrey obviously was, he refused to be taken in.

Crocker gave him a measured look. “Rare goods.”

“Rare _magical_ goods,” Audrey added. “Duke was telling me—”

“Oh, so it’s Duke now, is it?” Nathan grumbled, following them up the narrow stairs onto the next level, which looked so different from the hold Nathan had been in that it might as well have been on a different ship entirely.

“You can call me captain, if you like,” Crocker said, grinning.

Audrey, of course, ignored Nathan completely, utterly enamored with her new friend. “He catches and sells lighting, it’s a form of magic anyone can use.”

“Dangerous stuff,” Crocker added, “But it powers almost everything for the rich in Haven. And since the rich don’t like to pay Maximalion’s taxes… let’s just say I’m a very busy man.”

“You’re a smuggler,” Nathan said sourly. His father dealt with smugglers back home, and Nathan figured they were the same on any side of a magical wall.

They emerged onto the deck and Nathan took a sharp breath inward.

They were in the sky. He had known they were in the air—he remembered that very alarming discovering from the night before—but seeing it, seeing the crystalline blue sky above them and clouds underneath them made it suddenly very real and very hard to balance.

“Oh my god,” Nathan said, and he considered saying a prayer, but he’d never been a religious man.

“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” Audrey said. She seemed to sparkle faintly in the sunlight, her head tipped up into the wind so that her hair flew behind her. He had seen a number of humorless or mocking smiles on her face, but nothing like this. This smile rivaled the sunlight.

As uncomfortable as Nathan was, he had to admit there was something infectious about her joy. It made him wish he could feel the wind on his face.

And that made him think of something else entirely. “Is it cold up here?” Nathan asked. “Shouldn’t it be freezing? And how can we breathe?”

Crocker looked at him sideways. “Magic.”

To him, this answer must have been utterly natural and obvious. For Nathan, it made his hands shake. He had not enjoyed his last brush with magic.

“Are you… are you a wizard?”

Crocker looked disgusted. “Absolutely not. I’ll deal with magical objects if they’re useful, and I transport all kinds of magical shit, but I do not practice magic.”

“Uh, sorry?” Nathan said, not sure exactly how he’d offended him, or why he cared that he’d offended the pirate who was, for all intents and purposes, holding them captive.

The look Crocker gave him was very intense. “You have to be careful around magic-users, Nathan, especially if you’re travelling with her.”

Nathan bristled, both at the way Crocker had said his name and the way he was looking at Audrey. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“There are a lot of people who would want to get their hands on the heart of a star. Magic users will be the most dangerous.”

“You know what she is?” Nathan asked. He swallowed, raising his fists. He had very low chances of winning this fight, but he had to try. His advantage was that he couldn’t feel pain, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be injured, and he had little experience in fights of any kind. Duke clearly knew how to balance on board his ship and it was impossible not to notice that Duke was tall and muscled. Seeing as he was a pirate, Nathan also had to assume that Duke had been in a number of fights and could handle himself.

This adventure was beginning to make Nathan regret his life of keeping his head down.

But Duke didn’t try to hit him. Instead, he put his hands up in surrender. “While you’re on my ship, no harm will come to you at my hands.”

Cautiously, sure that this was somehow a trick, Nathan put his fists down. Audrey was still exploring the deck, and he looked over at her, making sure she was safe, and close enough that he could warn her if something happened.  
“How’d you know?”

“She told me,” Crocker said. “And even if she hadn’t, look at her.”

The shimmer was more pronounced now as she fiddled with a strange opaque crystal and copper tube that was leaning against the doorframe that led belowdecks. As frightening as it was after what they’d seen the night before, Nathan knew they had to trust someone. They were in an unfamiliar land full of magic he didn’t understand and couldn’t fight. They needed a guide. He didn’t want to trust a pirate, but there weren’t many other options. 

“People are after her,” Nathan admitted after a moment. “Something about the king and there was a witch—”

Duke frowned. “A witch? What kind?”

Nathan shrugged. “The kind who wants to rip out her heart and eat it?”

“Eat it? No, they don’t eat it, that’s disgusting,” Duke said. “It’s more like it gets absorbed into the skin.”

Nathan heard his teeth grinding and forced himself to relax his jaw. “My point,” He said, “Is that there is a witch out there who wants to murder Audrey, and who knows how many others who might kill her if they had the chance.” He still wasn’t entirely certain why McHugh had been after Audrey.

The memories from his encounter with the witch were hazy and too bright, like he was trying to look at them through a lit candle. He couldn’t recall what McHugh had wanted with Audrey, aside from that it had something to do with a king.

“You forgot meeting Jordan,” Audrey said, approaching from behind him. “I can be murdered by a witch, I could be murdered for some king, or I could meet your fiancé. They all sound so fun.”

Nathan smiled; this was the Audrey he was used to, and he found that he didn’t mind having her back. “Jordan is lovely,” He assured her. “You’ll like her.”

Even Nathan knew this was a slight exaggeration, but anyone would agree that Jordan was better than the witch.

“In any case, for the time being, you’re safest in the air,” Duke said. “I’ll go check my course; I know somewhere we can go for supplies and information.”

“Information?” Nathan asked. “Is that worth landing for?”

Duke leveled him with a very serious gaze, the first time he’d looked serious since he’d threatened Nathan in the brig. “In Haven, there’s nothing more valuable than information. You don’t want to be the one without it.”

With that, he left Nathan and Audrey standing on the deck.

“He grows on you,” Audrey said.

Nathan just gave her a skeptical look and cautiously approached the side of the ship. He stared at the sea of clouds underneath them, so thick and white that Nathan couldn’t catch a glimpse of the land to see how far up they were.

Audrey stood next to him, shifting awkwardly.

“How’s your leg?” Nathan asked. They’d been in such a rush the night before; he’d almost forgotten that she was injured.

“Better, I think. It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“Good.”

They were quite for a moment, staring at the shifting clouds which looked like boiling water underneath them.

“Thank you,” Audrey said quietly.

It was his turn to shift awkwardly. “I should thank you. You got us out of there, and you…” He paused, struck suddenly. “You gave up the traveler’s band. Audrey…” She couldn’t go home now.

She shrugged, her face all wrong for someone who was being casual. “It’s alright. This world is starting to grow on me.”

“You don’t have to come with me,” He said. “I can’t give you what I promised, so you’re released from our deal.”

He would return to Jordan empty-handed, but with stories to keep her entertained for days. He hoped that would be enough.

Audrey’s smile warmed and he found that he almost couldn’t look right at her. Soft golden light shimmered over her skin. “You saved my life. You were going to die rather than tell the witch where I was. I’m in your debt, Nathan.”

“You don’t owe me any—”  
“You saved my life,” She repeated. “I’ll go with you to Haven-Over-Wall and meet Jordan.”

Before he could thank her, she cut him off. “But don’t expect me to be friendly.”

Nathan laughed, but before the serious moment could completely pass, he said. “I’ll find you another traveler’s band, I pr—”

“Stop!”

In his surprise, he did stop before he could finish.

She smiled, but the glow had faded from her skin. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Nathan. It’s dangerous.”

“I’ll try,” He amended. “I’ll try to find you a traveler’s band.”

She leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “Thank you.”

Wandering away, she left him leaning against the railing, his body at once immovable and lighter than the air around them. Clouds that hovered around his life parted, sunlight streaking in in the shape of one person. 

The night before, he had imagined that he’d felt… But he’d assumed it was the rush of being rescued, the panic of trying to escape, a delusion inspired by fear or the remnants of the witch’s spell.

But the kiss had confirmed it.

He had known it was soft. Could describe the way Audrey’s lips felt on his cheek.

He could feel her.

* * *

_Boat Captain and Expert in Rare Goods Acquisition and Delivery_

Duke would not say that he was in the habit of doing nice things for people when there was nothing in it for him. Not that he went out of his way to avoid doing so, but he had met so few people for whom it would have been worth it, and so he didn’t bother.

He knew that many people who shared his profession would be salivating at the idea of having a star on board, willingly traveling with them. After all, Duke dealt in rare, powerful things, and stars were the rarest and most powerful magical things in their world.

But Audrey was not a thing. She was a person, and whatever his many flaws were, he did not deal in people.

When someone lived without laws the way Duke did, he had to draw his own lines for what was right and what was wrong. And he had long ago decided that it was wrong to infringe on free will in any way. If a magical object or creature could think and express itself, he wouldn’t transport or sell it. Among his peers, this was considered a strange, moralistic foible, but it was tolerated because he could steal and sell lightning, which few others were brave or foolish enough to do.

Audrey had made it very clear that she thought and felt and had no problems telling him what, exactly, she was thinking and feeling, not to mention the fact that it would be utterly wrong, even to the less golden-hearted of his competitors, to betray someone who had helped you.

Audrey had been his navigation so often and for so long that he did feel deeply in her debt, and also deeply in awe of her. She was beautiful, there was no arguing that, but the way she had caught his lie so quickly told him she was smart and capable. As a rule, Duke didn’t take passengers if there was anything he might otherwise do for money. The idea of taking passengers for free was insane, but if he was right about Nathan, then both of them needed protection. They were safest in the air, with someone Duke could trust not to turn on either of them.

There weren’t many people who Duke trusted; he was the only one who would be able to do it. If everything went according to plan, he would get them both over the wall before anyone had any reason to suspect the truth about her.

And before anyone could question Nathan, who must—Duke was sure—be a perfectly ordinary person, with a perfectly ordinary name on the other side of the wall. But here, in Haven, it painted a target on his back, as clear and bright as the one on Audrey’s.

He glanced out a small porthole, watching Audrey excitedly point things out to Nathan, who followed her with an odd little smile on his face. Nathan must not know anything. But then, why would he? This was Haven’s history, hardly a common subject on the other side of the wall.

“Someone really ought to tell him,” Duke muttered under his breath. It wouldn’t be him though. He didn’t get involved in politics.

Not that he thought Nathan was involved in any of that. He couldn’t be.

It wasn’t possible.

He swung the Rouge around, smiling to himself as Nathan and Audrey stumbled, ignoring the little, illogical twinge he felt when Nathan caught her, holding her hand for a moment longer than necessary before letting her go.

It was a strangely charged moment from someone who was supposedly so desperately in love with someone else that he had crossed worlds to find something for her and bring it back, but that wasn’t Duke’s business.

In any case, he admired Nathan more than he did the other young men who’d approached him searching for one beautiful magical thing or another because they’d made a foolish promise. Nathan, at least, had gone out to get his delusion gift himself.

In all other respects, however, it was difficult to admire Nathan. He was long to an almost ridiculous degree, and his posture begged everyone not to notice him, which only called attention to his awkward limbs. He dressed like a farmer, and even if he had been clean—which he wasn’t—he would have looked scruffy and out of place in Haven, and that was dangerous.

All of this, combined with the fact that, had ever bothered to make any kind of an effort in any direction, he would be very good looking made him into a tragic figure. There wasn’t much Duke could do about his posture, but there were some things he could do something about.

With their course set for Chance Harbor, it was fine enough weather to leave the Rouge to her own devices while he tried to make Nathan look slightly less out of place, which would likely take as long as it would for them to arrive.

“Alright!” He called, clapping his hands together as he stepped back onto the deck. “We’ll make port in a few hours, so we have to get you ready. You need clothes, hair, a bath—”

“Thanks,” Nathan said stiffly, “But I’m fine.”

Duke glanced at Audrey, who shrugged at Nathan.

“You’ve got blood on your clothes,” She said.

“And you look like you wandered in from over the wall,” Duke added. “You’ll draw attention, and that’s dangerous for Audrey.”

Audrey’s brows furrowed together and she opened her mouth—probably to tell him where he could shove his protective instincts—but Nathan spoke before she could.

“Fine. If it’ll keep Audrey safe.”

She huffed but must have realized that this was for the best, because she kept her vitriol to herself.

“Follow me,” Duke said, leading them back to where he’d acquired Audrey’s new clothes earlier.

He’d been hesitant to show her his collection room—he was hesitant to show it to anyone—but now that they were traveling with him and he would have to trust them to some degree, he was pleased at the opportunity to show off.

They stepped into the crowded room, once an unused spare bedroom off the galley, now a wall to wall storage room for items he’d acquired, planned to sell, and then decided were too useful to part with unless someone paid him a sum he’d yet to encounter.

“These four,” He said, pointing to a wardrobe, an antique chest, and two large trunks, “Will have clothes. We’ll deal with your hair after you change.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my hair,” Nathan insisted, running one hand through it and tugging on the ends that flopped uselessly towards his eyes as if he could look at it to verify that what he said was true.

Audrey laughed, which got her a glare from Nathan. 

“This thing is full of junk,” He said, rifling through the chest. “Where did you get all this stuff?”

“That’s a chest of lost things,” He said.

“What?”

“Haven’t you ever wondered where things go when you lose them?” He asked. “They end up in chests like that one.”

Nathan looked askance at the chest and closed it, turning his attention to the wardrobe, which he opened and seemed much more satisfied with, unsurprisingly.

“Are these yours?” He asked, pulling out a couple shirts, pairs of pants, and a jacket.

Duke shook his head. “They’re yours.”

“What—Is this magic too?”

Duke nodded. “It picks out what suits you. Useful, but a little judgmental.”

Nathan held one of the shirts up against his chest, and Duke didn’t bother to tell him that everything that came out of that wardrobe fit perfectly. The wardrobe was one of his favorite things on the ship and had saved him a fortune in clothing and tailoring ever since he’d liberated it from one of his rivals’ ships a few years ago.

Nathan went behind a screen to change, and Audrey looked through the wardrobe.

“You have to close the door,” Duke told her. “When you open it, it’ll be full of your things.”

“Is this where you got these?” She asked, gesturing to her shirt and leggings.

Duke shook his head. “Lost things,” He said. “The wardrobe only gives me things for me.”

She nodded and shut the wardrobe door, waiting a moment before she opened it, and then frowned. “It’s empty.”

Pretending to be only mildly interested, Duke wandered over and looked at the wardrobe. It was, for the first time since Duke had encountered it, completely bare.

“I don’t… this has never happened before.”

“Oh,” Audrey looked away, obviously more disappointed than she wanted to say. “Well, let’s check the lost things, I guess.”

He had been hoping it would work, for a number of reasons. Aloud, he would never have admitted that he’d been wanting to see what the wardrobe would give her. It was a judgmental thing, choosing items for people based on personality and status more than practicality. Audrey was a star, perhaps the only thing grander than royalty, and certainly the grandest person to ever grace the deck of the Rouge.

He had, very briefly, entertained the idea of Audrey in stunning gowns the wardrobe had created for her, each one more elaborate than the last. It wasn’t right for the life she’d lead while she was with him, but he thought it was what she should have, and he knew the wardrobe well enough to know that’s what it would give her. He looked at her, smiling as she dug through the chest of lost things and pulled out whatever might fit, and wished he could have seen her like that.

Shoving the image of Audrey decked out in finery into the deep recesses of his mind, Duke turned his attention back to the screen Nathan had disappeared behind. “You still back there?” He asked with some concern.

Nathan emerged, looking at once significantly better and much angrier. “I look ridiculous.”

Duke exchanged a look with Audrey.

“You look nice,” She said.

“Where I’m from,” Nathan said, “That’s not a compliment.”

“Well where I’m from,” Audrey countered, “There’s no such things as compliments, or speaking, or looking good or bad.”

“So, you should take what you can get,” Duke finished for her. “I agree, it looks good.”

And it did. It never ceased to amaze Duke the difference that clothes that actually fit could make. Though his shoulders still hunched, Nathan was standing taller, and it was much more obvious that he wasn’t just rail-thin and long; he was muscular. Even the strange stillness with which he held himself seemed more natural and almost dignified, now that it didn’t look like he stood still because he wasn’t certain where his limbs would end up if he didn’t.

Duke appreciated the effect, even if he wasn’t about to admit it.

“So,” He said conversationally, picking up a pair of shears off a nearby table, his eyes on Nathan’s hair, “How much do you trust me?”

* * *

_The Waylaid Witch_

Mara left the wreckage of the inn without bothering to make sure the king’s guard was dead. She had no quarrel with him and didn’t want to waste precious magic on ending him when she could use it to track the star.

Her runes told her nothing, which only frustrated her more. If their magic was limited it meant that some other force was at play, and that annoyed her. She was supposed to be the most powerful thing seeking the star.

She was walking aimlessly alongside a stream when she heard her own name called out.

“Mara!” Her father’s voice oozed out from the shadows between two river stones and she shivered despite herself. “Where is the star?”

It was only because she knew him so well that she could tell he already knew the answer, and that he was testing her. He wouldn’t tell her where it was until she earned it.

Gritting her teeth, she muttered, “I don’t know.”

“I thought not.”

Mara was at once relieved and angry that she couldn’t see his face. His ability to speak through shadows was hard won and costly; to show his face when they were already so low on power would be agonizing. Still, she wanted to be able to look him in the eye, to prove she wasn’t afraid.

“My runes are giving me gibberish and she vanished with a traveler’s band—”

“Your traveler’s band,” Her father reminded her, his voice like a whip.

“ _My_ traveler’s band,” Mara admitted, forcing herself to be humble. This would be over faster if she was. “And they disappeared. I’ve had no luck tracking them since.”

“That’s because runes are of the ground,” Her father said.

Inspiration struck like lightning. “She’s airborne!”

Her father’s voice was displeased when he said, “Of course she is, but now we must wait for her to land to catch her.”

“There are only so many harbors that take airships,” Mara said. “I’ll start with them.”

“Go fast,” Her father reminded her. “You have already failed your plan to keep her away from allies. If you fail again, I will seek her myself.”

“Yes, Father,” She said, bowing her head.

“In the meantime, I will look for my agent on the ground. Just in case you need… help.”

Mara shuddered, relieved that her father couldn’t see it. She had no interest in seeing or working with the mind-controlled men her father dragged into his service whenever he needed something done.

She still remembered watching the life drain out of the empty black eyes of the last one. Even though she knew what those men were—the sort who would risk everything, up to and including life and freewill, in order to gain a tiny scrap of her father’s power—late at night the image of him still haunted her.

“I don’t need help,” She said. “I’ll have the star as soon as she’s on land again.”

“Such confidence, without reason,” Her father mused. “It doesn’t suit you, dove.”

Mara’s teeth ground together at the nickname. “I said I’d get her—”

“Don’t waste your time arguing with me, girl,” He snapped. “Find the star!”

The connection snapped, and even though sunlight filtered through the shadows and shone warm on her back, Mara found that she still felt a damp chill, as if the sunny day was an illusion covering a mausoleum.


	6. In Which Information is Acquired

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took forever because it's super hard to work on, and even harder to stay motivated when there hasn't been much response. If you like it, please comment and let me know. Thanks for reading!

Every adventure must have moments of exploration and discovery. Thus far, our heroes have done little in the way of exploration. They have been caught in the tangle of being dragged or dropped from place to place, as heroes often are. At last, they have their chance to learn things, though, as is the way of stories, they very well might not like what they discover.

There is much yet in store for them. Curses, secrets, wild chases and danger they can’t yet understand.

Destiny, our fickle mistress, may have put her work in, may have mapped out the drama our historians will someday study. More likely she is not a crone with her threads but a cat with yarn. Our players, heroes and villains alike, are caught in her tangle no more sure of what they’re headed into than blind mice in a cave. And yet they forge ever onward towards their futures, destinies both written and unwritten.

* * *

_The Cursed Guard_

McHugh shook the rubble of the inn off his coat, stretching. He felt sick, horribly sweaty and nauseous and his hands shook when he tried to straighten his clothes out.

He had only been sick like this once before, when a boy had snuck up behind him, likely intending a prank. Startled, McHugh had swung his blade at him, and the boy had fled. He’d had to track the boy for hours into the forest before he could kill him and end the fight, not that it had been much of a fight, just to satisfy his curse. 

Carefully, he searched his memories of the night before, shuddering when he found them all tainted with magic. He remembered drinking more fernet than he’d had since he was a boy unable to afford any better. He remembered the look in that woman’s eyes, like he was the most important person in the entire world, and how thrilled he’d been to think so.

She must have been magic. Her influence had seeped through every beam of that place, soaking into it until cheap liquor and worn furniture had seemed luxurious.

He also remembered the man that had been with him. A servant. McHugh couldn’t make sense of that. He hadn’t been travelling with a servant. No, the boy had been a stranger he’d picked up on the road, exchanging the ride for some modest assistance.

Something hovered at the tip of his mind, but the spell’s influence was still there, preventing him from forming important thoughts. McHugh remembered that the innkeeper had tried to kill the boy.

And McHugh had raised a blade against her.

He hadn’t managed to strike a fatal blow, and she had disappeared. He had never pushed his curse to the limit like this and he realized, with a furious resignation, that he would have to forfeit his search for the star in order to kill the witch. He stood, feeling out where he was. The inn was destroyed, the magical fire having eaten through it much faster than was natural. Townspeople from Almost were beginning to emerge to look at the wreckage of their inn, and McHugh didn’t want to be found responsible for the two charred bodies he could see under a nearby collapsed wall.

He ran into the woods, leaving the town to deal with its dead and the destruction. He had more important matters to attend to. His curse pulled him towards the fight he had to finish, and he followed it, ignoring the fact that he was becoming hungry. She could not have too much of a head start. He would catch her before too long, and he would finish her.

As he entered the woods, he heard a soft snort and turned, thrilled to find his apathetic horse casually eating some leaves. His ears twitched towards McHugh and he raised his head, a clump of foliage hanging out of his mouth.

“Ass?” McHugh said, surprised to find himself happy. He fought the curse long enough to stroke the horse’s neck, letting the solid, stupid animal clear the last of the magical fog out of his head.

As he climbed on—bracing himself for a grueling bareback ride until he could get himself another bridle and saddle—he remembered one thing with sharp clarity.

The witch was seeking the star.

He was seeking the witch.

Perhaps, after all of this, he could still be king.

With that and nothing else in his head, he spurred Ass into a gallop and let his curse pull him towards his unfinished fight.

* * *

_The Captain at the Helm_

Duke tossed his face up into the wind, breathing the smell of saltwater as deeply as he could. The wheel was smooth and solid under his hands and the sky was bright and clear. Chance Harbor was just across the bay, which left him plenty of space to put the Rouge in the water and sail her to port.

Audrey and Nathan stood at the bow of the ship, both of them leaning into the wind. Audrey’s hair whipped out of the braid she’d tied it in, smacking Nathan in the face, not that he seemed to notice or care.

Duke watched them with some envy. He wished he could pass the wheel off to someone so he could stand with them, feel the spray as they finally hit water. It had been ages since he’d been able to do that, not since he’d finally managed to afford the rigging and enchantments he’d needed to make it so that he could sail the Rouge alone. 

Still, it was worth it to be able to chart his own course, to not be beholden to anyone, to escape the story someone else had written for him. When he looked at Audrey, though, he realized that he had all but told her he was beholden to her, and that he hadn’t really needed to. She didn’t seem to realize that he’d been following her light for the better part of two decades now, and he doubted she would hold him to any obligation. And yet he was sailing towards Chance Harbor, screwing up his delivery schedule, and putting everything he’d worked so hard for at risk.

It was dangerously out of character. Knowing that a star had fallen, that every magic user in a hundred miles would be after her, should make him want to keep to the skies and stay as far away from her as he could, but he didn’t. Instead, he was going to Chance specifically to find a magic user—albeit one he trusted as completely as he was capable—to fish for information on Audrey’s behalf.

“Brace yourselves!” Duke called down to his passengers. Only Nathan looked back at him, that tiny hint of a smile playing on his face as he turned back to stare at the water ahead of them.

Duke watched with only a little envy when Nathan put his arm around Audrey, holding on to the railing on the other side of the bow to make sure she was anchored in place.

They were only a few feet over the water now, racing towards it. Duke was ready for it. He could almost feel the moment they were skimming, mere inches away from the surface, and then he pulled hard on the rope nearest him, releasing the sail so that at the last second, they jumped up rather than crashing through the surface of the water. The impact still sent water pouring over the bow, drenching his guests.

Audrey let out a little scream, turning towards him. He could see past her mask of indignation easily; she was thrilled. Her eyes were lit up and bright, their sparkling green-blue almost exactly like the water that slapped calmly against the Rouge.

“You did that on purpose,” Nathan said, irate and more than a little accusing.

Duke grinned and joined them on deck. “You can’t prove that.”

“Where are we?” Audrey asked, looking around the bay.

“A little south of Chance Harbor. It’s a port town, great market for goods, better market for information if you know where to look.”

“And you do?” Nathan asked.

“Yes,” Duke said simply, ignoring his sarcasm. “But it’ll be easier for me to get without you around. Go explore the market, wander, have a good time.”

Audrey looked out towards the docks they were rapidly approaching, her skin lighting up as she stared at the distant market tents, bright like gems against the clear sky. “I wouldn’t mind a chance to look around,” She said casually, as if she was only barely interested.

They were getting close enough that the dock workers were starting to stir and call out, directing Duke to an empty slip.

“You alright to explore a bit Nathan?” Duke asked.

Nathan looked dubiously at the bustling docks and the market that wound its way up the sloping face of the mountain Chance was built on. “Sure, why not.”

Audrey beamed, and the glow got even brighter, exactly bright enough that it couldn’t easily be written off as some new and very effective cosmetic or a trick of the light.

“Audrey,” Duke said, grasping her arm to make sure she was paying attention. “There are people looking for you, and even more who would happily take an opportunity if they saw it. You have to be careful that you’re not recognized.”

Audrey looked at her hand, shining almost as bright as the water reflecting the sunlight. “This is what I do when I’m happy,” She said.

“Just, try to keep it all inside,” Duke said. “Ask Nathan, he’s an expert.”

Nathan glared at Duke, but confirmed his theory by not saying anything.

They both disappeared to change out of their wet clothes while Duke made sure the Rouge was properly docked and everyone who’d helped was paid well enough not to gossip about him.  
When his passengers emerged, Duke had to pause to admire how well he’d done with Nathan. His hair was shorter now, and neater, making him look less awkwardly boyish and more his age. He had not, much to Duke’s approval, changed back into his clothes from Haven-Over-Wall, and though he didn’t look like he would exactly fit in with the sort of people Duke ran with, he didn’t look like an outsider anymore. It would be enough to keep him alive.

Audrey, of course, looked beautiful. She had controlled the shine enough that it was only noticeable because he was looking for it, and with long sleeves and leggings covering most of her skin it was only really evident around her hair. So long as she wasn’t anywhere dark, he doubted anyone would think she was anything more special than an exceptionally beautiful woman.

He handed her some coins. “Have fun, don’t draw attention to yourselves.” He smiled at her. “Keep an eye on him.”

Nathan glowered, but sadly didn’t rise to the bait as he turned to follow Audrey down the gangplank. Duke caught his arm before he could go, holding him by the shoulder to be sure he was paying attention.

“Don’t use your real name down there,” Duke warned.

Nathan frowned. “Why?”

“No one in Haven is named Nathan, it’ll make you stand out. You’re Nate here.”

Nathan tilted his head, opening his mouth like he was going to ask another question, but he stopped, shrugged, and turned back to the gangplank, following Audrey down.

Duke stayed on the deck for a few more minutes, until even Nathan’s tall form had disappeared into the crowd, and then he grabbed two lightning cartridges and made his way in the opposite direction, away from the market and further down the docks.

To call his destination a shop would be pretty generous. From the outside it looked more like a shack; none of the boards exactly lined up with one another, and the door was smaller than the frame it’d been built for. It was unassuming in every possible way, which is why it was so perfect for what it was.

When he pushed the door open, he smelled the thick scent of fernet and dried herbs, with an underlying tang of soured ale.

“God this place could use a window,” He said to the empty store, knowing its owner was in the back, hearing all of this.

“And have sunlight getting into my spells? Talk like that proves you don’t know what you’re doing.”

Despite the deep-set frown on her face, Duke smiled when he saw her.

“Duke,” She said, sounding like someone who’d been told a very boring story and been expected to laugh at it.

“Gloria.” He beamed, opening his arms. Despite her apparent displeasure, she went into them, squeezing him tight. Duke allowed himself a single moment of vulnerable contact and then pulled away.

“Didn’t know you were coming to Chance,” Gloria said, “I’d have asked you to bring me some things.”

“I brought you some things without being asked,” He told her, moving his coat to reveal the cartridges. “One for you and one to sell.”

“A present?” She asked, suspicious.

Duke pursed his lips. “More like a… an exchange.”

Gloria’s frown sank even deeper. “What do you want?”

“Information.”

“What happened?”

Duke hated that he could tell she thought he was in some trouble, hated even more that he was sorry to have disappointed her, even though—for once—he hadn’t done anything wrong.

“Starfall,” He said simply.

Gloria sighed deeply. She was the only living person who knew Duke’s whole story, the only person he’d ever dared tell his destiny to. “It’s the crown task,” She said.

Duke bit down a curse. He’d suspected as much when Nathan had mentioned the king’s guard from the inn, but he had hoped he’d be wrong. It only made everything worse.

“I’ve looked into your… story a little more,” Gloria said, and Duke appreciated that she didn’t call it his fate. Gloria, like Duke, still treated it as only an unpleasant possibility, rather than a certainty. “The people who might be looking for you. They’ll be after the star.”

“Are you sure?” Duke asked fighting to keep his voice steady. He wasn’t afraid of magic. He wasn’t afraid of a warlock. He and the Rouge could outpace destiny itself; they’d been doing it for years.

Gloria nodded. “Yes. Their fingerprints are all over what happened to the last star.”

That did not bode well for him.

“If you see the star, run,” Gloria said. “Stay as far away from all that as you can, or you’ll be walking right into their hands.”

“Right,” Duke said, too fast. “No stars. Sounds simple enough.”

A vein ticked in Gloria’s temple. “You already found her, didn’t you?”

“Who, me? No. I’ve never seen a star. Except, you know, the ones in the sky.” Duke offered her a sheepish smile.

Gloria reached behind her and grabbed an old scroll, probably printed with dark magics, and whacked him over the head with it.

Duke put his hands up to block the subsequent blows. “It was an accident! She just ended up on my boat, I swear.”

“She fell from the sky and landed on your boat, did she?” Gloria asked, lips pressed together.

“Something like that,” Duke admitted.

“And where is she now? Did you get rid of her?”

“No—"

Gloria interrupted before he could defend himself further. “You should. You have to. Stars are nothing but trouble, and that’s the last thing you need.”

“I have to help her, Gloria,” Duke said, serious for once. Before she could argue, he continued. “She wants help getting over the wall. She’ll be safe there.”

Gloria’s lips pressed tightly together, and he could see she was considering more argument, but finally she sighed. “No talking you out of this is there, kid?”

Duke shook his head. “I made a promise,” He lied.

“Idiot.” She whacked him over the head once more for good measure. “What do you need?”

“Charms,” Duke said. “Something to make her less noticeable. Weapons; I’ve only got my knives and a sword, more would be good—” At her look he added “—Just in case, of course.”

Gloria looked at the cartridges he’d brought. “I hope you’re keeping some of that for yourself.”

Duke didn’t admit that he’d been considering it, despite the fact that selling his stock from the storm would have finally gotten his books out of the red.

“I’ll keep it in mind,” He said with some reluctance.

“Come to the back,” She said after a moment. “I’ve got what you need.”

He followed her a little warily. Duke knew better than most people what sorts of things Gloria had in the tiny back room of her shop.

“So, what do you—BODY!” Duke jerked back, whacking his head against the doorframe he’d just ducked under.

Gloria rolled her eyes. “Hardly any body left,” She said, utterly unphased by the skeleton on her table.

“But—”

“He was found dead on the floor of the castle, just after the king died. Not hard to guess what happened to him but a couple noble siblings he was… acquainted with wanted to be sure.”

Duke hadn’t exactly forgotten about Gloria’s unique gift for communicating with the dead, but he had made a concentrated effort not to think about it, and he’d never been in a room when she had one of her “patients”.

“The crown task?” Duke asked.

Gloria nodded. “Poor guy won’t rest well until it’s completed. None of them will.”

Duke frowned at the skeleton, discomfort sliding over his skin. He didn’t like looking death in the face, didn’t like that he was seeing exactly what happened to someone who’d gotten between a guard and the crown task.

“People are willing to die and to kill for this,” Gloria reminded him.

“All the more reason to give me as much help as you can.” Duke turned it into a joke, but Gloria saw right through it.

She handed him a bag of charms. “Your basic protections. Most of them won’t work on the star; they’re immune to most magic—”

“Even black curses?”

“All black magic,” Gloria said. “Makes them a force to be reckoned with. And Duke?” She held out a small jar. “Healer’s patch. Spread it on a wound and it’ll heal much faster than normal.”

“Healer’s patch?” Duke asked.

“It’s made from healers’ grave dirt.”

Duke swallowed a slight gag and took the dirt. “Thanks.”

“You should thank me,” She said. “I could have sold that for a fortune.”

“Thank you,” Duke said, sincere for once. “I’ll find a way to repay you.”

Gloria waved his offer away. “I’m just trying to keep you alive. Take whatever weapons you want from the front; I don’t need them. I just hope it’s enough. One last thing, Duke. There are rumors. The dead are speaking, just whispering—”

“What?” Duke asked. He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear what secrets the dead were telling.

“The prince might be alive. There might be a true king of Haven.”

Duke had never been political. He was, in fact, anti-political; who sat on the throne was no concern of his, because he broke whatever laws they made anyway, but still, it made him shiver a little.

Starfall. The dead talking. The prince returning. It all felt significant.

But he brushed it off; he couldn’t think about that. “Well, if I see him I’ll be sure to tell him how to get his crown and rule Haven.”

Gloria laughed humorlessly. “Won’t help. The guard would kill him if they found him.”

“You think?” Duke asked vaguely.

“A crown prince has the first right to the crown task,” Gloria said, sounding remarkably like the schoolteacher Duke had stubbornly refused to listen to thirty years ago. “If he’s alive, they all have to give him time to complete it before they can begin themselves.”

“Or they have to kill him while he tries,” Duke said, vaguely remembering how Maximalion had taken the throne.

“Exactly.”

“But he can’t be alive, can he?” Duke said. “The queen killed him. Everyone knows that; it’s why she was banished.”

“Some say she wasn’t banished. Some say she ran away with the prince—”

“She was captured. I saw it,” Duke said. He remembered that day more vividly than he’d have liked. “And the prince wasn’t with her. Even if he was alive, he was what… nine years old? He couldn’t have survived on his own.”

“You did,” Gloria reminded him, arching one eyebrow up.

He acknowledged this with a half-hearted shrug.

“They say she gave him up,” Gloria said, “And spent the rest of her time hiding herself. Nine years on the run. Nine years without a sighting, and then the queen turns up, weeks after Starfall. Strange, don’t you think?”

Duke shook his head. He hated when Gloria was like this. Hated that she occasionally decided to act like the less practical witches he’d known and get cryptic and strange.

He didn’t want to think that any of this had anything to do with him, even though he had long suspected it did. “The past is the past,” Duke said. “All that is over, and the prince is dead. One of the guard will be king.” Maybe if he ignored it enough, he could make it go away.

That method had been working for him for twenty-seven years.

“You’re probably right,” Gloria said, though Duke got the impression that she meant the opposite. “Still, one hears so many whispers.”

“Let me know when they start yelling,” Duke said. “Thanks again.”

Before Gloria could say anything else, he ducked under the low doorframe again. Out of the corner of his eye, he swore he saw the skeleton on the table move, as if it were watching him go.

* * *

_Nate_

Nathan had never seen so many colors in his entire life. He had never seen so many things, so many people—if he could even call them people—some of them certainly didn’t seem human—in one place.

They crowded around him, pushing past and jostling him in their rush to get wherever they were going. For once, he was relieved not to be able to feel; with so many sounds and smells and things to look at, he doubted he could have been able to handle one more sense.

Audrey seemed to be doing fine. She was looking around, her eyes—but thankfully not the rest of her—bright with excitement. Occasionally, she would grab Nathan’s hand to prevent getting separated in the push of the crowd, and he had to try very hard not to gasp every time it happened.

He could feel her. It was impossible. He must have finally gone completely mad from the lack of sensation.

And yet, when she grabbed him for the third time—he wasn’t counting on purpose, but the number was there all the same—her skin was warm, her palms soft and dry against his.

He hadn’t felt warm, or soft, or dry in so long.

He hadn’t felt anything in so long.

“Look at those,” Audrey said, pointing at one of the booths, this one stocked with fabrics Nathan couldn’t have dreamt of being able to name. They were bright and beautiful, but when he looked closer, he could swear that some of them seemed _alive._

One, which looked like it was made of millions of fish scales woven together, shimmered and shifted like it was still darting through the water. Another twisted from black to vibrant red to bright, scorching yellow, like the last gasps of hearth embers.

The man selling the fabrics was beautiful too, with dark, smooth skin, and a wide smile. His black coat was easily the finest piece of clothing Nathan had ever seen, but it seemed to have been engineered to distract from the merchandise as little as possible.

“A new gown for the lady?” he asked. His voice was low and accented in a way Nathan had never heard.

Audrey reached for a bolt of fabric the color of the ocean on a sunny day. “I don’t think… I just wanted to look.”

“Look as much as you like,” He said, shifting his attention to another woman who was sidling up to the booth.

Nathan stared at the ocean cloth. “What… what does it feel like?” He asked hesitantly.

Audrey frowned.

“Sorry,” Nathan said quickly. “It was a stupid—”

“It wasn’t,” Audrey said. “I’m just thinking. I’m not used to touching things, or describing them.”

He waited, oddly breathless, for her explanation.

“It’s,” She started slowly, “It’s so smooth it’s almost cold. But not unpleasant cold, soft cold.”

Smooth, cold, and soft were all things Nathan only remembered in his dreams, but he understood her anyway.

Audrey must have seen the wistfulness on his face, because she grabbed his hand again and tugged him away from the booth. “Let’s find something we can both enjoy.”

“Like what?”

She smiled. “Food.”

He led the way towards a handful of foodstalls further from the docks. He didn’t exactly recognize what anything was, but he let the smells guide him, and Audrey let him choose for her.

In the end, their selections were almost entirely random, and each thing was the most delicious thing he’d ever eaten, until he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to go back to the ordinary food of Haven-Over-Wall.

Audrey pulled him behind her to the next stall, despite the fact that their arms were already full of what they’d gotten from the last time. Still, he let her do it because otherwise he’d have had to let go of her hand.

He had nothing to compare that point of contact to. It was as though he were being made real for the first time. Her hand was fire without pain, the bright glow of sunlight through a crack in a cave wall. 

There was nothing, really, like it at all, but he struggled to come up with comparisons for as long as she held on. It distracted him from the way her touch blinded him and focused him, drawing the entire world to nothing more than the feel of her skin brushing against his.

“Nathan?” Audrey said, frowning.

He’d missed a question. “What?”

“Are you okay?” She asked. “You’re acting weirder than usual.”

“Oh, um… yes,” He said. “There are just… it’s all the smells,” He finally added, feeling slow and stupid as if he’d had too much to drink. “Distracting.”

Audrey raised an eyebrow but didn’t tell him he was acting strange again, much to his relief.

“I just wondered if you wanted to sit here and eat,” She said, gesturing to a park where couples were strolling, and kids were playing.

The crowd was thinner here than in the market proper, and it was quieter, easier for Nathan to focus. He nodded and settled down next to Audrey, not-quite-accidentally sitting close enough that his hand would brush hers when they reached for the food between them.

“Is all food like this?” Audrey asked after a minute of eating in silence and watching people go by.

“I’ve never had anything like this,” He admitted. “Could be that it’s only like this over the wall.”

Audrey took a bite and made a noise low in her throat that had Nathan searching for anything else to look at and think about. “I might have to rethink our deal, if crossing the wall means never having _this_ again.”

Nathan stared at her and found himself rethinking their trip back to the wall as well. He shook his head to clear it. He had to go back. He’d made a promise.

“But then, what would Jordan do without me?” Audrey said, a bit sarcastic but without the bite Nathan had gotten used to hearing from her.

“Right,” Nathan said, watching while she turned away to observe some kids playing a game a nearby. “Jordan.”

“She must miss you,” Audrey said idly, still not looking at Nathan.

He doubted it. “Yeah. Maybe.”

She looked like she was about to ask him something, but paused when the children all scattered, a large man in some kind of armor stalking through it. He called out to people, and everyone stopped for him, showed him some kind of paper. 

“What do you think—”

“You there!” An identically armored man said. “Chance Guard. Show me your papers.”

“Our…” Nathan glanced at Audrey, who was, against all odds, smiling.

“We lost them,” She said quickly. “In a, um, boating accident.”

The man frowned. “Well… what are your names? What’s your business in Chance Harbor?”

Nathan was about to introduce himself, but he remembered Duke’s warning at the last second. “Nate Wuornos.”

“I’m Audrey,” She said, her smile blindingly bright, and—Nathan was surprised to find—very charming.

Unaffected, the guard frowned, waiting for her surname.

Nathan looked around, stared at the field around them. “Park…er. She’s Audrey Parker. We’re visiting.”

“What’s the purpose of your visit?” The guard asked again.

“The market,” Audrey said. “We’re travelers, and we’ve heard about it. It lives up to all expectations.”

“Exceeds them,” Nathan added, trying to smile the way Audrey was, though he doubted the effect was the same.

The guard nodded. “Well… enjoy your visit.”

“We will!”

They waved him off, breathing a sigh of relief as he went.

After a moment to catch her breath, Audrey rounded on him. “Audrey Parker?”

He shrugged. “What? It’s a good name. Very normal.”

She rolled her eyes. “Normal? I’m a _star.”_

“And people aren’t supposed to know that. Besides, it’ll be perfect once you’re over the wall.”

Her eyes narrowed into a surprisingly fierce glare for someone so pretty. “I hate you.”

He bit down on a smile. “No, you don’t… Parker.” 

Her glare tightened even further, and she reached up to flick him in the ear.

He winced—it was the first pain he’d felt in two years. God, how could pain be so wonderful?—and pulled away from her.

Audrey stared, her glare gone, vanished under the waves of shock and confusion that crossed her face. “You felt that.”

It wasn’t a question.

“Yes,” He admitted.

“But—”

“It’s just you,” He admitted.

“What does it mean?” Audrey asked. “Duke said he thought magic might not work on me—”

“You saw through the witch at the inn,” Nathan reminded her, though he doubted that she’d forgotten.

“Does this mean that… _you’re_ magic?”

“No,” Nathan said on reflex. He couldn’t be. “I’m… ordinary.” 

He was normal. He’d always been normal. He was from the most normal town in a normal country.

_Freak._

_Devil._

The townspeople’s words, which in Haven-Over-Wall had always echoed in his ears and followed his footsteps wherever he went, came back to him. He was surprised to find that he hadn’t even noticed they were gone.

But that wasn’t important. What was important was that they had always said something was wrong with him. From his frequent bouts of numbness that he’d never managed to hide, to the way he kept himself distant from all of them, more reserved even than they were.

And he’d been born on this side of the wall.

In everything that had happened, he’d barely had time to think about it much, but it was true. He’d been born here, probably born closer to this market than to the town where he’d grown up.

It was, unbelievably, possible that he _was_ some kind of magic.

He ran his hand through his hair, then considered asking Audrey to do it so that he could feel it happening. Not that that would have helped. He was already confused, his thoughts scattering in a million directions, adding her touch—that shock of beauty, of contact—to the mix would only make it worse.

“Nathan,” She asked quietly. “Are you…”

“I don’t know,” He said. “I don’t know what I am.”

Audrey reached for his hand, and he watched her fingers get millimeters from his wrist before she stopped and pulled away.

Neither of them, apparently, knew how to talk about this.

“There they are!” Someone shouted, and Nathan looked up—almost relieved at the distraction—to see the guard they’d spoken to earlier.

“Damn it,” Audrey muttered. The guard—and a dozen more just like him—was running towards them. She stood, grabbing his wrist and dragging him up behind her.

The contact was dizzying for a second and Nathan staggered, barely managing to keep his feet underneath him well enough to start running.

The crowds got in the way, stopping to point at the cluster of guards running behind them. The few that seemed to realize who, exactly, the guards were chasing did little to stop them, but still, it was like swimming against a river to get through them.

At some point, he got separated from Audrey. She was short and vanished easily. Nathan didn’t want to—didn’t even think he _could—_ leave her behind but finding her would slow him down and probably get him arrested.

So he ran, turning towards the glimmer of ocean he could barely see past shops and market stalls and running towards it in the vain hope that he would reach the docks and the relative safety of the Cape Rouge in time.

Over the crowd, Nathan caught a sun-bright shine of blond hair. _Audrey._

She must have had the same thought he had and was making a break for the docks a couple dozen yards ahead of him.

“Fire!” Nathan heard from behind him, along the heavy thud of leather boots grinding the dirt road. The guards were armed.

An arrow whistled past Nathan’s ear. He was, for once, grateful that he couldn’t feel the spike in his heartrate, or the burn in his lungs while he ran.

The crowds had wisely cleared out of the way now that the guards had drawn weapons, which made it easier to run but harder to hide.

“Stop in the name of the lord of Chance Harbor!”

Nathan didn’t stop.

His father had, over the years, tried to instill in him some respect for authority, but Nathan found that—now that he was in another world hundreds of miles from his home—it hadn’t really stuck.

“Nate!” Duke’s voice was recognizable enough that Nathan steered towards it on instinct, and finally he caught sight of the Rouge.

Audrey was already on board; Duke was waiting by the gangplank, and Nathan could tell he’d already started unmooring her. The second Nathan was on board, Duke would cast off and they’d be gone.

He was surprised how touched he was that they’d waited for him.

The guards were closing in behind him, and even he could tell that he wasn’t going to be able to keep up this pace for much longer. His breaths were coming short and fast, and black spots were starting at the corners of his eyes. He was pushing too hard, and he wasn’t close enough to the Rouge.

Nathan started to wave to Duke, trying to urge him to go, to get Audrey away. She was the one they wanted, not him. He couldn’t get enough breath to actually say anything, much less shout loud enough that Duke would be able to hear, but he tried, and he kept waving.

Duke didn’t move. He waited by the plank, balanced on his toes and starting with sharp eyes at Nathan.

It was only a few more steps. More arrows whistled past him. Nathan didn’t know if he’d been hit already. He hoped not.

Finally, he was at the foot of the gangplank and Duke was grabbing him, dragging him up the final few steps to safety.

For the first time, Nathan turned to look behind him, and he saw the guards, now organized into neat rows, all of them armed with crossbows pointing towards the Rouge.

He saw the leader’s lips form the order.

He didn’t see them pull the triggers, because he was turning, rotating and holding Duke’s shoulders to that his back covered Duke’s chest. He had time to think, incongruously, that Duke smelled nice, like sky and summer and salt.

He only knew he’d been hit because he looked at Audrey and saw her eyes go wide with horror. 

* * *

_Audrey Parker_

Three arrows hit Nathan in the shoulder at nearly the same time, and Audrey just watched.

She’d been watching Nathan run, because she had already gotten to the Rouge and gotten on board.

She also watched as Duke pulled on several ropes, dashed up to the helm and got the Rouge back out to see. It was only the lurch of the ship as Duke got her into the air—so much less exciting than landing her in the sea had been earlier—that startled her into action.

And really it was the fact that the motion made Nathan fall to his knees that got her moving.

He was hurt.

She knew, vaguely, that humans were easily injured, and that they often died from these injuries. She had been worried about Nathan when Mara had set the inn on fire. She had been worried, but somehow it hadn’t felt real.

This, the blood seeping through Nathan’s shirt from around the arrows, the confused way he contorted, trying to see the unfelt injury, this made it suddenly very real.

Nathan was human. And humans could _die._

Finally, Audrey stumbled over to him, her hands fluttered around, useless and unsure. She wanted to touch him, thought that was probably what would need to happen eventually, but she remembered the way he’d flinched when she’d flicked his ear.

He could feel her, which meant that she, more than anyone, could hurt him.

She settled instead on holding his hand and putting a careful hand on his face. “Nathan? Are you—”

Duke ran over before she could even finish the question. “Why did you do it?” He asked.

Nathan smiled stupidly, his eyes fluttering open and shut in a way that made Audrey feel sick. “S’okay,” He muttered. “Doesn’t hurt.”

Duke’s frown deepened. “What?”

“He can’t feel,” Audrey explained. “Duke, I don’t know what to do, we have to—”

“Help me move him,” Duke said, cutting her off. “Careful not to move the arrows, I’ll need to pull them out later.”

She was happy to have something to do. A task. A job. She could help move Nathan, and that would be useful.

That would mean things would be okay.

Duke did most of the lifting, carefully avoiding touching Nathan’s injury, but Audrey kept hold of Nathan’s hand, and she talked to him while she guided him and Duke through the door and down the stairs into the bedroom where she’d woken up the day before. Duke’s bedroom.

“Keep talking to him,” Duke said after he’d carefully laid Nathan on his stomach on the bed. It was hard to look at him like this, the arrows like spines coming out of his shoulder. “Keep him awake and make sure he doesn’t turn his head and suffocate in a pillow. I’ll be right back.”

Duke left and Audrey had never felt so confused or alone in her entire life, which felt incredibly long and so impossibly short at the same time.

“Nathan?” Audrey asked.

His eyes fluttered, just enough to tell her that he was awake, if only barely.

“Nathan, you can’t sleep right now. You need to… just stay awake, alright?”

He muttered something incoherent.

“Think of… think of Jordan,” She said desperately, even though the name left a sour taste in her mouth. “She’s waiting for you, Nathan. What’s she going to think if you never come back with her star?”

Nathan snorted a ragged laugh. “No, she’s not,” He said. His words were hazy and slurred.

It worried her, how even though Nathan was looking at her he didn’t seem entirely there. Behind the nervousness, another strange feeling thrummed through her heart. What did he mean that Jordan wasn’t waiting for him?

More importantly, why did she care?

Duke returned holding a small bottle and wearing gloves. “Hold this,” He handed the bottle to Audrey. “Nathan, I’m going to pull the arrows out.”

“Okay,” Nathan said. “Have fun.”

Duke swallowed, and for the barest trace of a second, Audrey saw fear on his face. “Talk to him,” He told her.

Keeping a white-knuckled grip on the bottle Duke had given her, Audrey knelt next to the bed, carefully stroking Nathan’s face with her free hand.

He smiled. His eyes were closed, but the smile strengthened Audrey, if only just a little. 

Duke put one gloved hand flat on Nathan’s shoulder so that the V of his thumb and forefinger were around the arrow closest to Nathan’s arm. With his other hand, he gripped the arrow.

And pulled.

Audrey screamed. She tried as hard as she could to swallow the sound but some of it escaped and Nathan’s eyes jolted open.

“I’m okay,” He said, and she had to carefully contain a sob at the fact that _he_ was comforting _her_. He nuzzled his face into her hand, smiling. “All I feel is you, Parker.”

She continued to touch him, tracing her fingers along his jaw, his high cheekbones, surprised to find that the more she looked the more handsome he seemed, despite the fact that she didn’t have much of a metric for that sort of thing. She found that she didn’t even mind him using the name he’d so presumptuously given her.

Duke pulled out the third arrow, sweat beading on his forehead. “The bottle,” He said, holding out his hand.

Audrey handed it to him. “What is it?”

“Healer’s patch,” Duke said. At her mystified expression, he explained. “Grave dirt. It’ll help.”

Nathan woke up and tried to pull away. “Not supposed—dirt isn’t good—”

Audrey pressed down on the back of his neck, forcing him to lie still and the fight left him. “I’m sure Duke knows what he’s doing.”

“Doubt it,” Nathan muttered as his eyes slid closed. 

Even Audrey had to admit that Duke didn’t _look_ like he knew what he was doing as he poured dirt all over the bleeding wounds on Nathan’s shoulder. 

“How does it work?” Audrey asked, staring at the dirt, which had soaked up the blood and made a disgusting mud, smeared over Nathan’s pale skin. It turned her stomach over, made her flinch as she thought about the bodies on the floor of the inn.

“Healing is an old power. Might have started as a black curse, a long time ago, but it might be something else, too. It’s old magic, older than the curses I’ve heard of. When someone who has it dies, the magic soaks into the ground where they’re buried, gives it some of their power.”

“Must be rare,” Audrey said.

Duke nodded. “I just got this today. We’re lucky.”

Audrey looked out the portal, stared at the scarlet-streaked sky. The sunset reminded her of blood. “We are.”

“He’ll be alright by tomorrow,” Duke said. “You should get some rest.”

“I’ll stay with him. I don’t sleep at night anyway.”

He didn’t try to argue with her, almost as if he’d expected that answer.

Standing up, Duke started to leave the room, but he turned back at the door. “Nathan… He really doesn’t feel anything?”

Audrey tilted her head, surprised at his interest. “No, why?”

He sighed very heavily, dragging his hand through his hair. “No reason.”

Despite her words and her very nature as a star, Audrey found that she was getting tired, even as her sisters were just beginning their dance for the night.

She half-leaned on the bed—resolved to only rest her eyes until Nathan started to move, and then she would find somewhere else to sleep—and gave in quickly to the pull of exhaustion.

Hours later, she woke in almost complete darkness, the only light coming from a small, spluttering candle that reflected strangely off Duke’s high cheekbones and shining eyes.

He was looking at Nathan, and didn’t even notice that Audrey had woken.

“It can’t be you,” He whispered. “Not _you.”_


	7. In Which Someone Tells a Secret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still alive! Sorry this took two months. I'm doing my best and your comments and support are appreciated.

Revelations are inconvenient things. They are especially so when one person receives one, and is left to drop it on someone else. Should this person choose not to reveal it, the revelation becomes a secret. Now secrets are not inconvenient. They’re slippery like fish, and twice as useful. A secret is a weapon in waiting, even in the hands of a friend, and the longer it’s held the stronger it becomes.

And some people grow very used to their secrets.

Like peeling old wallpaper, the longer one keeps a secret, the harder it is to peel it off and see what’s underneath.

A good storyteller knows that a secret can only be kept so long, that if one waits too long, then precious tension becomes frustration. If it’s loosed too soon, it hardly has the weight it needs to turn the story.

There is no convenient equation for those in the story, no way to know if the truth they have to offer will save or spoil them. It simply must be said, and dealt with.

And of course, if one only has to watch or listen, that’s the best part.

But if one has to live it, they might rather nothing is revealed at all.

* * *

_A Man on a Mission_

“They got away?” McHugh asked. He tried as hard as he could to make his voice cold and commanding, but it sounded strained even to his own ears.

Lord Arwel of Chance Harbor, a man who appeared to be only barely twenty years old despite his lofty title, still seemed intimidated. “They did manage to evade capture, sir, but we know that they’re sailing on a smuggler’s airship—”

“Do you have a name?” He asked. Had he been less ill, McHugh would have found it amusing that a noble who outranked him by so much—the lord of a wealthy port town—would be nearly trembling in front of him. This was the effect that the cursed had on people. Everyone knew that upsetting a member of the king’s guard could have dire consequences.

“I’m afraid not. The man has been to Chance before, but he’s used a number of different names, for both himself and the ship. There’s no telling which is his real name.”

“And the other two? The ones who your guards questioned?”

“I had an order out,” The man explained. “For the guards to bring in anyone who couldn’t identify themselves. We’re quite wary of newcomers after Starfall—”

McHugh snorted. “You thought the star would just fall in your lap? And the crown with it, I assume.”

“I had no intentions towards the crown, my lord,” Arwel said, stuttering over the words almost desperately.

“Ah,” McHugh said. The frayed scraps of respect he’d had for Lord Arwel vanished completely. “You intended to sell her to whoever gave you the best deal of it?”

Arwel’s eyes searched the wall behind McHugh’s head. He did not defend himself.

“Did anyone else seek them?” He asked. “Was there another woman? She looked like the star, but her hair was darker, more red.” For a single moment, the ache of his curse flagged. Just asking about the witch eased some of his agony.

“There was no one else my lord, certainly not another star—”

McHugh had hoped that perhaps the witch would have pursued them to Chance, that she might still be here so that he could satisfy his curse before continuing the search for the star.

“If a woman comes to you seeking the star, or any information about her, you will get word to me in the fastest means you have available, am I clear?”

Arwel nodded vigorously and spinelessly. McHugh wanted desperately to pull out his knife to make his threat clear, to feel even the slightest rush more powerful, but he couldn’t do that without awakening his curse, and for now, the lord was more useful to him alive.

“My lord,” Arwel said as McHugh was leaving. “You are welcome in my home should you need a rest. You appear… unwell.”

McHugh glared. “I want none of your hospitality. I will be well when the witch is dead and the star is mine.”

Arwel nodded again. “Luck to you—” He paused for a single beat—“your highness.”

Some of his anger—if none of his discomfort—abated. “My thanks. Remember, should anyone seek this information, find me.”

With that, he closed the door, willing himself out of Arwel’s manor and back into the streets of Chance Harbor.

Once he was away from servants’ prying eyes, he swept at his sweat-soaked brow with his sleeve. His curse was getting stronger. The witch wasn’t in Chance yet, and he wasn’t sure he’d survive much longer if he didn’t kill her.

She would seek the star. She was a witch, and stars were the addictive sort of power they could never resist. It took some leaps, but he forced his exhausted, fevered brain to make a plan.

The star was traveling with a smuggler and that man… that man with something about him that got under McHugh’s skin, with a feeling like forgetting a word he was sure he knew. He thought—or hoped—that was the last traces of the witch’s magic still under his skin. He doubted he could trace the man from the inn, but a smuggler… a smuggler was findable.

It took all his strength to saddle his horse and climb on, motions made clumsy by his sickness. He knew people in the sky guard, those that pursued smugglers and illegal lightning harvesters. He could find somewhere to rest, seek a comfortable inn and rest while someone else sought the star. He wouldn’t even have to tell them why he was looking for the smuggler, just that he was a person of interest to the King’s guard. It would be enough, and once he had the star, he would have bait for the witch.

_You are destined to be king,_ His father’s voice, as rough and sure as it had been when McHugh was a child, echoed in his mind. _The prince is gone. It will be one of the guard. It will be_ you.

* * *

_Nathan_

Nathan eased into wakefulness slowly and comfortably. It took him a few moments to remember the arrows, the look on Audrey’s face, the blood.

His blood, he realized. Cautiously, Nathan glanced at his shoulder, struggling to twist and see the injuries and ultimately giving up.

He sat up and looked around. He was in a well-appointed, comfortable room, which must have been Duke’s cabin, and he was alone.

Some part of him was distantly disappointed, but he couldn’t have explained exactly why. Had he hoped that Audrey would be here? Or perhaps Duke, ready to thank him for taking the arrows?

That, Nathan knew, was foolish. It was hardly a burden for him to bear injuries. He couldn’t even feel them. Anyone with an ounce of logic would say that it was unfair of Nathan _not_ to take injuries for the others, not that Nathan had been thinking logically when he’d gotten between Duke and the guards’ crossbows.

It had been an unthought blur, and instant’s action. It was hard to say if he would have done it had he been able to feel the arrows, but part of him thought that he probably would, that he hadn’t done it simply because he wouldn’t feel it, but rather because he wanted to make sure that Duke didn’t.

That was a thought Nathan couldn’t quite justify, so he pushed it out of the way and carefully pulled himself into a sitting position. Audrey or Duke must have pulled his shirt off to tend the wound—he tried not to think too hard about the two of them looking at him while he was unconscious and half-dressed—and a mirror in the corner of the room allowed him a better view of his back.

The wounds were impossible. Nathan had not felt three arrows enter his back, but he was sure they had. He had seen the blood, had seen the horror in Audrey’s eyes, had heard the way her breath caught with panic while she’d tried to reassure him.

He remembered through a confused haze the grim look on Duke’s face, the way his jaw had been tight with both fear and determination.

Those were not reactions people had to small injuries which scabbed over in one night, but Nathan was staring at three narrow cuts, which might have started as deep scratches, but they looked to be weeks old, rather than only hours.

“I think you’ll live.”

Nathan jumped, whipping around only to realize that it was his reflection that had spoken. It was smiling at him, still looking over its own shoulder.

“Damn magic,” Nathan muttered.

He stood carefully, afraid the cuts might somehow reopen and prove that they’d been as deadly as he’d thought they were. Without bothering to put a shirt on—and trying very hard not to wonder who had changed his pants and when—Nathan left Duke’s cabin and made his way to the deck.

He paused, letting his eyes adjust to the bright sunlight, and watched Duke and Audrey.

They were fighting. Duke had a knife in one hand, the other held out just slightly, balancing him. Nathan noticed that he hadn’t bothered with a shirt.

Audrey was wielding a short, broad sword that glinted almost unnaturally in the sunlight, flashing like she was wielding a piece of mirror, rather than a blade. She rushed Duke, and he spun easily out of the way, pressing his knife into Audrey’s sword, right where the blade met the hilt. Duke shoved his hip into Audrey’s; she stumbled and would have fallen if Duke hadn’t caught her with his empty hand.

As it was, Audrey’s sword clattered to the deck.

Her face was pinched up with frustration as she reached for it, clearly ready to try again.

“Hey! He’s awake,” Duke said, striding over to where Nathan was standing, the fight forgotten. 

Nathan felt strangely embarrassed, like he’d been caught watching something much more intimate. He waved awkwardly, unsure of what to do with his limbs. “Morning.”

Duke laughed, “It’s past-noon, you’ve been out all night and half the day.” He paused. “How do you… feel?”

Nathan flushed. Audrey must have told him about his disease or curse, whatever it was. “Fine.”

“Nate, I uh, I wanted to—”

Audrey ran over, stopping short even as Nathan braced himself for her to throw her arms around him. A moment later, he wondered why he’d thought she would, and why he was disappointed that she hadn’t. 

_It’s because I can feel her,_ Nathan rationalized. _She affects my judgement._

“Are you okay?” Audrey asked.

Nathan nodded. “I think it’s fine.” He turned, trying again to see the marks on his shoulder and still not quite getting a glimpse.

Duke glanced at Nathan’s back. “The healer’s patch worked well. Should probably avoid moving it too much for the time being though.”

“Guess that means I can’t join you,” Nathan said.

Audrey glanced back at the sword, still lying on the deck. “Duke thought I might need to be able to protect myself.”

“You should learn too,” Duke said, and there was something cryptic and significant in his voice. “Just to be safe.”

Nathan nodded, looking at the sword Audrey had dropped like it was a snake. He’d never fought anyone; he’d never even _seen_ a sword up close.

“You’ll get to pick your own,” Duke said.

“You have an armory on this thing?” Nathan asked.

“I have some things lying around.” 

Nathan looked around the ship. It was big, but Nathan couldn’t quite keep track of how much of it he’d seen. Somehow it seemed like the Rouge would keep going no matter how much time Nathan spent on it, like there would always be a new room to find.

“There’ll be time for that later though,” Duke said. “First, you should eat something. We all need a rest.”

“I feel fine,” Nathan said, “I can start practicing now.”

He remembered what it had been like to run from those guards. They had caught on to him and Audrey so fast. They had to be able to fight back wherever they stopped next. They’d made two lucky escapes already, and Nathan knew that luck ran out. 

“From what Audrey tells me,” Duke said, “You don’t feel much of anything. Give yourself more time to heal.” Nathan opened his mouth to argue, but Duke held up his hand. “My boat, my rules.”

“You told him?” Nathan asked Audrey as Duke walked away. He couldn’t name exactly what he was feeling—embarrassment, frustration, even betrayal—but it curled in the back of his throat, half choking him.

“You told him,” Audrey said. “And he would have found out anyway. You had three arrows in your back and you didn’t even flinch.”

“Are you coming?” Duke called back to them.

Audrey walked to the galley, and Nathan, still thinking over everything she’d said, followed a few steps behind.

* * *

_The Keeper of Curses_

Duke didn’t like cooking for strangers. He didn’t like having passengers on his boat, and he didn’t like needing to play host.

Strangely, having Nathan and Audrey in his galley—and in the way—didn’t feel like the rare occasions he’d had passengers before. In fact, they didn’t really feel like strangers anymore.

Still, he couldn’t let himself get comfortable. Audrey was a star and Nathan…

Nathan was going to be the biggest lie Duke ever told, the worst secret he’d ever kept. It burned at the back of his throat but he held it where it was. It was safer for Nathan out of Haven, over the wall, where his life was quiet.

_He should have a choice,_ A small voice reminded him.

But once Nathan knew the choice would be gone.

“Duke?” Audrey asked. She touched his arm and Duke nearly flinched at the feel of her light, cool fingertips against his skin.

“What?” He asked quickly, blinking his thoughts away.

“Can we help?” Audrey asked, and so patiently that she must have been repeating it for the second or third time.

“Just grab some plates from there,” He said pointing at one of the cupboards. He looked at Nathan and tried to come up with something for him to do, something to get him out of the way so Duke didn’t have to keep looking at him, comparing his profile to what he knew of—

“Nathan, could you—” He ran through a mental list and finally breathed a sigh of relief when an idea occurred to him “—go to my cabin and grab the bottle that’s sitting on the desk?”

Nathan nodded wordlessly and left.

“Are you okay?” Audrey asked him. “You’ve seemed… distracted.”

“It’s a lot to think about,” Duke deflected. “Getting the two of you to the wall.”

“I’m sorry,” Audrey said sincerely, “That we brought all this to you.”

Duke flinched a little when he realized what she’d thought was on his mind. “It’s complicated,” He acknowledged, “But I wouldn’t change anything. I don’t regret helping you.”

Audrey smiled, and her glow brightened, illuminating the dim cabin.

They went back to work, speaking little except when Duke asked Audrey to hand him something or she asked what he was doing or why.

She sprung the question on him after a few minutes of calm, her voice so pointedly casual that he knew immediately she’d been thinking about it for a while. “What were you talking about last night?”

“What?” The vegetables he was chopping suddenly became very important, all-encompassing, in fact. He couldn’t have looked away from it to meet her eyes, no matter how much he wanted to.

“Last night,” She said. “I heard you say ‘it can’t be you’ to Nathan.”

He had spent half the night staring about Nathan, thinking about what he knew. He didn’t remember saying anything out loud, but he didn’t doubt Audrey.

“Nothing,” He lied smoothly. “Probably talking in my sleep.”

“Your eyes were open.”

He shrugged. “That happens sometimes.”   
Nathan came back in, holding an unmarked bottle. “Got it. What is this stuff?”

“Magic potion,” Duke said, trying to tease. Unfortunately, the words scratched on the way out, making them ring hollow and awkward.

“Nathan, do people sleep with their eyes open?”

“What?”

Duke cursed under his breath. Really? She was doing this now?

“People,” She repeated. “Do they sleep with their eyes open?”

Nathan shrugged. “Some people. Vince, the old wall guard, used to say his eyes never closed all the way.”

“And he’s telling the truth?” Audrey asked.

“Why the sudden interest in sleeping?” Nathan said, ignoring her question.

Audrey frowned. “No reason.”

It was a little comforting to know that she hadn’t mastered lying yet.

For all her lack of subtlety, Audrey didn’t try to ask about what he’d said when Nathan was there, whether that was a latent display of tact, or because she thought she’d gotten her answer somehow, Duke wasn’t sure, but he was grateful.

He finished their oddly timed meal—a late lunch or very early dinner, Duke wasn’t sure which—and sat together to eat.

“Did I miss anything while I was asleep?” Nathan asked between forkfuls of food.

“Just me putting half a continent between us and Chance Harbor,” Duke said. “We’re a bit out of our way.”

_Our way,_ As if Duke had been planning on going to the wall at all, as if he had any reason to be in the capitol. Somehow, their mission had become his, and that thought made him more nervous than he wanted to admit. _It can’t last,_ He reminded himself.

“Don’t worry,” Nathan said. “We aren’t in a hurry.”

His words, so perfectly timed with Duke’s thoughts, stung, but Duke couldn’t let it show.

“You should be,” He said quickly. “Word will spread from Chance, it’ll be harder for us to make stops and much harder for us to get to the wall.”

For a very quick second, Nathan looked disappointed.

“Besides,” Duke said, forcing something like enthusiasm, “You can’t leave your lady waiting.”

Audrey’s smile was a delicate, flickering thing. “Of course, Jordan must be worried sick.”

“Don’t think she’s ever worried about anything,” Nathan said.

Audrey’s smile vanished, Duke watched it flicker and go out like a snuffed candle. Nathan was staring into the distance and didn’t seem to notice.

Of course Duke had noticed something there. He’d seen the way Audrey leaned towards Nathan but had thought maybe it was because he was the first person she’d ever met. It wasn’t the kind of thing he could compete with, had he been the type to compete over someone’s affections, which he wasn’t. 

_She’s the star,_ A sharp voice reminded him, as if it were possible to forget. He shouldn’t even be in the same room as her. If he were just a little smarter, he’d have left her and Nathan on the docks at Chance Harbor.

_And then they’d both be dead,_ A slightly different voice pointed out.

His mind was made up, had been made up since he’d realized that Audrey was his star. He owed her a debt and he would see it through, because doing otherwise was tempting fate.

_This is tempting fate,_ the first voice chimed in.

He was beginning to think that maybe fate couldn’t be avoided, which was unfortunate given he’d spent the last thirty years trying.

Duke took a sip from whatever Nathan had poured and the familiar taste washed over him. It tasted like evening, like forests, like…

“Nathan, did you get the bottle from my desk?” He asked slowly, already knowing the answer as magic curled around him.

“You said shelf,” Nathan said confidently.

“I don’t think he did,” Audrey said. “Why, what is this?” Instead of waiting for an answer, like someone who was familiar with the concept of poisoning would, she took a sip.

And flinched. Her face went blank, her jaw slack. She stared at the floor but Duke knew she wasn’t seeing the worn wood grain.

“Audrey?” He said quietly, reaching out.

Nathan was sitting closer to her and grabbed her arm, shaking her a little. “Audrey!” He turned to Duke. “What’s wrong with her?”   
“This stuff, it’s memories in a bottle,” He said. “A joke from a witch I—never mind. Let’s get her to the deck, she needs some air.”

They abandoned their meal and led the barely responsive Audrey onto the deck. She finally came-to when the air hit her face.

She sat hard on one of the crates, staring over the side into the frothy sea of clouds. “I… Her name was Lucy.”

“Who?” Nathan asked.

Duke stepped back. He’d never known her name. He realized now that he hadn’t wanted to.

“The last star. Her name was Lucy. She was here in Haven and she was in danger. She and… she was with someone else, someone who was also in danger. A man with black eyes. We watched… we were stuck in the sky and we could only watch.”

Duke shook Audrey’s shoulders, snapping her out of the spell. He didn’t want to hear the details, didn’t want to have to live with them.

Black eyes.

He’d known, and yet hearing it made it real in a way he hadn’t realized it wasn’t.

“The witch,” Audrey said quietly, “The witch from the inn, the one who looked like me… she was there too.”

Carefully, Duke wiped away the tear that had slipped out from under Audrey’s lashes.

“I don’t understand any of it,” She said. “I was a star it wasn’t like seeing or thinking or…”

“It’s alright, Audrey,” Nathan said.

“No, I can’t… I remember but I don’t understand,” She said.

Duke raised his hand reluctantly. “I might be able to explain some of it. Nathan, go get the bottle again. I’m going to need some of that.”

When he was gone, Duke turned back to Audrey. “Are you sure you can handle hearing this?”

Her jaw flexed, a line formed between her knit brows, and he got the distinct impression that he was about to be told where he could shove his concern.

“Audrey,” He said before she could say anything. He halted at her name, unsure, more afraid than he’d been in years. He stared at the deck, unable to meet her eyes. “This will change things,” He finally said.

“Whatever it is, I need to know.”

_You don’t,_ He wanted to scream. _You could cross the wall and go away and never come back to Haven and you’d never have to know._ But he knew her already. He knew that she would never stop looking for this answer.

Nathan returned and held out the bottle. He looked like he wanted to say something, but Duke was sure that if he waited around for Nathan to figure out what it was, he’d lose his nerve.

He drank deeply, letting the taste of memories, bitter and smooth and old wash down his throat.

“It was Starfall,” He said, because that was how most good stories began in Haven, and because it was true. “My father took me outside to watch it. We had a cottage, tiny thing way out in the forest. I hated it. Hated all the trees and rain and the way the pine needles smelled when they turned into mud.”

This was more than he’d spoken about this night to anyone except Gloria in decades. Gloria only knew because he’d hoped she might be able to fix some of it. It was odd, at once liberating and limiting, to talk about his childhood. He hadn’t thought about that shack or those trees in a long time.

He’d almost forgotten that he hated it.

He drank more, willing himself to remember the more relevant parts of the story and then handed the bottle to Audrey. He didn’t want to get too lost.

“My father used to disappear for days, occasionally turning up again with food or some money. He’d been back for a while before Starfall. When he dragged me out of bed—” Duke drank more to ensure that the memory was correct “—I thought he might send me into the woods to die like in one of the old tales. I was prepared for it.”

The laugh that escaped him was bitter. Distantly, he was aware of Audrey’s hand resting on his leg, but nothing felt entirely real. He was caught halfway between the Rouge, Audrey, and Nathan and his own memories, which were wrapped around him like a blanket.

“He just told me a story,” Duke said, and he didn’t need the potion’s embrace to remember each of his father’s words. They’d been burned into him. “About his grandfather. He made a promise, and that promise bound him to a warlock in the Black Palace—”

Audrey gasped. “I saw that place,” She said. “I saw… the walls, the mirrors—”

Duke shrugged. He’d never seen it, hoped that he never would. He didn’t think he could keep telling the story, magic liquor or not, if she kept interrupting though. He barreled on, just wanting it to be over. “He pledged himself in service to the Warlock in exchange for a power that would help him kill his enemy, a member of the king’s guard. But my great-grandfather, he didn’t just make his deal for himself, he made it for his son, and his son’s son, and all his descendants. We would all have his power, and his indenture.

“That night, my father told me that now that the star had fallen, he might have to pay his part of the family bargain. That it was his fate and it would be mine.”

Duke’s head cleared a little when he felt Audrey’s hand tremble, and even more when Nathan stilled it with his own. 

“He left the next day, and it was all so strange that I followed him, something I’d never tried to do before. I tailed him all the way to the Capitol.” Duke didn’t remind them that it was the same city they were heading towards. “I lost him in the crowds there, but before I did, I caught sight of him, tried to talk to him. He didn’t even look at me, didn’t seem to know I was there. His eyes were completely black.”

The bottle slipped from Audrey’s hand, shattering on the deck.

Duke startled, jerking out of the memory. The sun burned his eyes, or maybe it was tears. He wasn’t sure.

The only thing he was sure of was that he had to finish the story.

“A day later I heard a woman screaming in the square. I went to see what was going on. Everyone was shouting that she was the queen. She was screaming that we had to save the star, that a man with black eyes had taken her. And then the guards took her away.”

He had heard enough back then. He looked between Nathan and Audrey and could tell that they had heard enough now.

Still, he met Audrey’s eyes. “Audrey… I think my father killed the last star.”

* * *

_The Pirate's Friend_

Their course remained steady but Audrey’s stomach dropped like the Rouge had pitched downward, like she was falling from the sky again.

The black-eyed man from her memories was Duke’s father.

The information steeped in her brain and she tried to make sense of it, tried to find some meaning in everything Duke had told her.

Nathan acted much faster; he grabbed the sword she’d abandoned earlier and held it up in Duke’s direction.

“You’re part of the promise,” He said. “Is this part of your plan? Are you going to kill Audrey?”

Duke looked more tired than offended by Nathan’s demands. Nathan waved the sword vaguely, as if it added something to his accusations.

Audrey stood and put her hand on his. He swayed a little, his muscles shifting under her hand. “Duke won’t hurt me. You know that. He’s had plenty of chances to, and he never has. He wouldn’t.”

Nathan lowered the sword, but his eyes were still narrow. “How do we know something won’t happen to him? He said his father didn’t recognize him; that could happen to Duke.”

“It won’t,” Duke said, with the confidence of someone who had been telling himself the same lie for a long time.

_He’s afraid,_ Audrey thought, proud of herself for recognizing it. “I’m not afraid.”

Duke looked at her like a man might look at his god, like he was hoping for benediction, absolution, like she alone had the power to grant it.

“You won’t hurt me,” She said. “You’re my friend.”

Duke’s lips twitched into an approximation of a smile and he leaned forward, hiding his face in his hands.

Audrey looked at Nathan, who stared back, his brows arched up in question. She nodded once, sure.

She trusted Duke, and Nathan would too, or else he would keep his mouth shut about it.

“I’ve been fighting it for twenty-seven years,” Duke said. “I ran after that. I didn’t want the warlock to find me, so I stowed away on an airship. I traded work for skills for the next ten years until I knew enough to win the Rouge and set out on my own.”

“Can he not… get us up here?” Nathan asked hesitantly.

Duke half-shrugged. He looked exhausted. “Magic comes from one of two places: The sky or the ground. Black magic, like the well under the castle and whatever is happening at the black palace, is from the ground, which means its weakness is what comes from the sky.”

“So you’ve spent your whole life up here trying to stay away from a curse?” Audrey asked. It sounded lonely.

She looked at Nathan who was studying Duke closely. Nathan was very much of the ground, she thought. He was from over the wall, practical to a fault, rooted deeply in where he’d come from. She was from the sky, still unused to everything that came with being here, still overwhelmed by it when she let herself be.

Duke was caught somewhere between them, not grounded by anything or a part of anything larger.

She kept those thoughts to herself, looking at him she knew that the last thing he would want was her pity.

“Is there a way to break the curse?”   
Duke almost laughed. “It’s a black curse—”

“What about Audrey?” Nathan asked. “She’s immune to magic, maybe she could—”

This time, a hollow laugh did ring out of Duke. “Maybe the heart of a star could do it,” Duke said. “But do you think I would do that?”

“Do you think that’s what your father wanted?”

Duke lifted one shoulder in another miserable shrug. “I don’t know. I don’t know anything about it. He told me the whole story once when I was a kid and disappeared after that.”   
“I’m sorry, Duke,” Audrey said, taking a seat next to him. She wasn’t sure what to do, wasn’t sure what human customs for comfort should be, so she leaned against his shoulder, pressing her weight into him.

He turned slightly, leaning in and breathing deeply, his nose against her hair. “I’m not… I really am just trying to get you to the wall.”

“I know, Duke,” She said.

Nathan looked suspicious, but at least he hadn’t raised the sword again, not that Audrey thought he’d have been able to do much with it. After one lesson, she was already pretty sure he hadn’t been holding it right and wouldn’t have been able to hurt Duke unless Duke had stayed exactly where he was and allowed it to happen.

“You’ll need to learn how to use that,” Duke said to Nathan, changing the subject abruptly. “In case…”

He didn’t finish; he didn’t need to.

In case Duke was poisoned by some ancient promise, Nathan and Audrey would need to be able to defend themselves against… _him_.

It was a horrible, ugly thought.

It was worse that Duke seemed to be suggesting it himself.

_He’s thought about this before,_ Audrey realized. She put her hand on Duke’s shoulder. “Thank you for helping us.”

He looked at her, stared with an emotion too complicated for her to understand. She wished she could. She was glad she didn’t.

After a long pause, he nodded and stood, as if they’d come to a decision. “Come on, let’s find you a sword.”

He led them back down into the ship, past the hold and into the little room Duke had constructed from various crates and boxes, where he’d taken her earlier to pick out her sword.

“If nothing appeals to you, we can look through the lost things,” Duke said, and Audrey wondered how he could switch so quickly from being upset to being perfectly normal.

She watched him, rather than Nathan while Nathan wandered around, picking up various swords, spears, and knives.

Duke kept his eyes trained on Nathan and she couldn’t get a glimpse of what he was thinking. He stared, something a little lost but mostly inscrutable on his face. She wished again that she knew more about emotions.

She wished the memories of all she’d seen as a star were less enormous to look at. If she could have sifted through them, found the parts that made sense, followed the story of what had happened to Lucy, she might have been able to understand enough to help him.

But even thinking of trying to touch those memories, to go back to the sinking, dizzy excruciation she’d felt when she’d tasted that potion made her head thrum with pain.

The memories had been locked away for a reason; she couldn’t go looking in them unless it was absolutely necessary.

“I like this one,” Nathan said, holding up a sword that was longer and narrower than the one she’d picked, it curved slightly and had a thick metal guard over the handle.

Duke smiled. “It suits you.”

Audrey wasn’t sure what that meant, or what Nathan was looking for. She’d picked her weapon because it had felt right in her hand, the weight and length balanced evenly like it was an extension of her arm. She doubted Nathan could have that experience.

But Nathan looked pleased at Duke’s praise and they went back up to the deck.

“Are we starting now?” Nathan asked.

“No better time,” Duke said grimly. “I have to make a delivery soon. We can’t repeat what happened at Chance.” 

“What about his shoulder?” Audrey reminded him. “I thought we were going to wait.” She wondered if his confession had reminded him of the danger and changed his mind about protecting Nathan’s injury.

“It’s fine,” Nathan insisted. “I want to learn.”

“A few basics should be fine.” Duke said. “We have a couple days until we get where we’re going.”

“Which is?” Nathan asked.   
Audrey glared, not liking his suspicious tone. She’d thought he’d gotten over his distrust somewhere between Duke letting him out of the brig and when he’d thrown himself between Duke and a dozen guards with crossbows, but Duke’s confession must have reawakened it.

She hated that a handful of words could change so many things.

“It’s not the kind of place they name and put on maps,” Duke said grimly.

“Sounds lovely,” Audrey muttered.

“The views are amazing,” Duke said, matching her sarcasm. “Especially if you know how to fight.” He gestured, widening his stance.

Audrey retrieved her sword and tried to remember everything Duke had spent the morning teaching her.

Nathan matched her posture roughly. Duke sighed and set about moving Nathan’s long, unaccustomed limbs until they were in something approximating a fighting stance and then turned back.

“Attack me,” He said.

“What, both of us?” Audrey asked. She didn’t want to fight him. It made her stomach churn, made her imagine the possibility…

“I’ll be fine,” Duke said calmly.

A little too calmly, actually. Audrey bristled at the thought that he didn’t think they could take him, and the anger made it easier, made it a game.

She lunged, Nathan followed suit, swinging wildly.

Duke stepped out of the way, evading both of them and using the slight slant of the ship against them. Nathan had so much momentum that Duke was able to kick his foot out from under him, knocking him to the deck easily.

Audrey was still on her feet and she spun towards Duke. Again, he ducked out of the way, coming around her and grabbing her from behind.

He rested his fingers against her throat gently, just enough touch to let her know he’d done it, that if he’d been holding his knife he could have killed her.

Rather than frightening her, it had a different effect, it made her heart beat faster in a way that had nothing to do with recent exertion.

When he pulled away, she was almost disappointed.

Nathan stood up. “Do it again.” He smiled. “When I get back to Haven-Over-Wall I want to be able to beat the wall guard.”

“That’ll impress your woman,” Duke said, so seriously Audrey was sure he was joking.

Joke or not, the mention of Jordan soured Audrey considerably. It happened every time she thought about their destination, this mean tension that made her want to say something unkind to Nathan.

Nathan cracked a half-smile at Duke’s words, but he didn’t exactly look happy, which somehow eased the tight feeling in her chest.

“Again?” Audrey asked Duke.

He took his stance. “Again.”

They practiced for two more hours, until they were exhausted, and Duke had found every conceivable way to knock them on their asses.

It was a relief to stop, to surrender and sit down in a heap on the deck.

“That last round was better,” Duke said. “Nathan, you move too fast and everything is telegraphed. I can see you thinking about what you’re going to do way before you do it, and that means I can stop it. Audrey, you’re relying on strength you don’t have. Keep your feet under you and be smarter than whoever you’re up against; that’s how you’ll win.”

She stood, flushed from the praise and stretched, tugging at her shirt when she realized they were staring. She glared back and they both turned away.

“Sun’s setting,” Nathan said.

Duke smiled. “Follow me.”

He led them to the main mast and Audrey stared up the rigging. “We’re going up there?”

“Yep.” Duke smiled, entirely too satisfied.

Nathan shrugged and grabbed the ropes, hauling himself up. Audrey followed clumsily, her muscles aching from all the fighting and the mental exhaustion of remembering. Still, she refused to be beaten, and made it to the crow’s nest just moments after Nathan.

Duke climbed up after them, much more gracefully than either of them had managed. He didn’t have to explain why he’d wanted them up here.

The clouds skimmed around the boat, drenched in sunlight until they were gold, spiraling with light. They were a part of it, wrapped in liquid sunlight.

Audrey tilted her head up, feeling the subtle rush of happiness that meant she was glowing, adding her light to what the sun was pouring out as it sank down past them.

“It’s beautiful!” She shouted, letting her own glow get brighter. She knew she couldn’t compete, but it felt good to do what she had done best for all those millennia.

She had turned away again before, but she felt Nathan and Duke move to stand beside her.

“Yeah,” Duke said quietly and almost sadly, right in her ear. “It’s beautiful.”


End file.
